Close Encounters 28
by chezchuckles
Summary: GoldenEye. Spy Castle and Beckett hide out on their private island, hoping to turn Hunt to their side.
1. Chapter 1

**Close Encounters 28: GoldenEye**

* * *

 _as always, for Jessie_  
 _who threatens to chain me up in her basement if I don't keep writing her spies_  
 _why does that sound perfect?_

* * *

Castle groaned at the high-pitched, insistent whine in his ear. His eyes tugged open to alert readiness - care of his now-regular use of the regimen - and his hand snaked out to grab the phone.

Fuck. It was the Director.

Castle jerked upright as he answered. "Sir."

"Agent Castle."

The bed was empty. Castle blinked in the dim half-light, slid his feet to the floor. "Yes, sir."

"Agent _Castle_. When - exactly - did you plan on reporting in to me?"

"Sir," he said, shifting to stand. The covers fell away and dropped to the floor; he moved through the empty bedroom searching for his wife. "I was waiting until I had a handle on-"

"You were hoping to sweep this all under the rug before I ever found out."

Castle winced and opened the door. The island house was quiet, early-morning light leaking through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the back hall. "No, sir. I had no intention of hiding any of this."

"This being the royal fuck-up you've caused?"

"I... royal?"

"Diane Jolin was fucking French royalty, Agent Castle."

"French _royalty_ ," he gasped.

"DGSI," the Director said shortly. "Counter-espionage. And no - I don't mean she's related to fucking Louis the Sixteenth. I'm talking - she was off-limits. Hands-off, Agent Castle."

"Sir, _she_ came after _us._ " Castle growled and stalked down the hall to James's bedroom. Empty. "And look, I know it's no excuse. But we were never informed that she had any actual intelligence services status."

"Well, she does. And while it was news to me too-"

"News to _you_?" he hissed. "Then it's bogus. She wasn't DGSI. She was a contract researcher in the Collective, competing against John Black's own programs for years."

"Competing or walking hand-in-hand into the damn fucking sunset?" the Director grumbled.

"Yes, sir," he said carefully. "Might be that. Doesn't matter. One of our assets came to us at our own home-"

"Highly dangerous," the Director grumbled. "An egregious-"

"Yes, sir, I've explained that to him."

"Your asset should never have even known your address. Your _city_."

"Yes, sir," he said, taking the heat for it. He opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the deck, glancing down the slope towards the beach.

"This asset. Is he going back?"

"He's being rehabilitated at the moment," Castle hedged. "But that is the hope."

"Diane Jolin came all the way to New York for your asset."

Castle could hear the doubt in the Director's voice, but the regimen absolutely couldn't be part of this. No one could know. "Yes, sir. He had sensitive information about the Collective."

"This is all a fucking shitstorm, Agent Castle."

"But sir, we think we can limit the damage. With Jolin definitively deceased, she's out of the picture. She can't tell her story, but our asset - he can. He has no one to counter his version of the story."

"Better be coming up with a damn slick story."

"Yes, sir." He thought, faintly, he recognized the speck on the beach as his son. Which meant that Kate wasn't far behind. "We have a good story."

"Why does that make me suspicious?" the Director muttered. Apparently rhetorically, because he went on. "Fine. Just keep me in the loop. I don't hear from you every week - every week, mind you - then I'll be coming down on your heads."

"Yes, sir," he said, sighing. "You'll hear from me."

"And Agent Beckett. I want her voice on this phone. Not an email you could've coached her into writing. I want her voice on this phone. You understand me, Richard?"

"Yes. I understand you."

* * *

Kate pushed sand through her toes, pointing and extending her leg. She nudged James with her foot and the boy laughed, glanced up at her and put his hands together, clapping.

"Yeah, wolf. I'm so impressive."

James was unappreciative of the unsteady sand, wouldn't walk. So he crawled off until he found another tide pool and plopped down in it, beaming back at her. He kicked his feet and splashed, showing off for her, but she soon lost his interest as his attention was caught by creatures swimming around him in the shallow water.

Kate turned her eyes back to the horizon, her toes thick with wet sand. The ocean was tumultuous this early in the morning, low tide an hour before the sun rose. James had been awake for awhile now; he wasn't sleeping on schedule.

She didn't know what to do. He was sleeping like _her_ , but he was also sleeping like Castle.

Augmented. Special. Or just a little insomniac?

She was desperate to get him to sleep.

Kate turned her head back to her son playing in the water, watched him slap his hand against the pool, dip his fingers inside when that proved not to work. He was fishing, she thought. In his own way.

Solemn little boy, despite the chuckling and the clapping. Solemn when those eyes turned to her.

"JP," she called, an urgent need in her throat.

He didn't turn; he stared into the depths of the tide pool.

A tide pool had no depths.

"James."

He turned his head, his surprised face, both eyebrows raised and mouth in an 'o'. She let out a breath and shook her head, ran her hand back through her hair. She felt sand shower down to her shoulders.

"Mama?"

"Yeah," she muttered, turning now and moving quickly to the tide pool. She was about to scoop him up, but she stopped, stopped still beside her son.

James pointed a finger and stuck it into the water; she didn't know what she was doing. Didn't know why she was awake at five before the sun when James didn't mind playing alone in his crib until they came for him. Didn't know why she felt restless and agitated and jittery, like there was something she should be doing but she wasn't.

Kate sank down to her knees, traced her fingers down his little arm until she touched the water as well.

He laughed and lifted his eyes to her, that shy smile.

"Oh, wolf, why won't you sleep?"

"I could ask the same of you."

Kate lifted her head and turned to see her husband standing there, hands pushed into his shorts pockets. Behind him was the sloping ridge to the house, still in pre-dawn shadow.

"I never sleep," she sighed.

"You should be though. You both should be." Castle pulled his hands out of his pockets and came to sit beside her, his shoulder against hers. He leaned forward and tugged James's ear. "You hear me? You're keeping your mother up."

"No, he's not," she muttered, leaning her cheek to his shoulder. "Don't listen to him, wolf. I don't sleep well either. I'm napping during the day anyway."

"So is he," Castle muttered. "You ever think that's why?"

Kate startled up, glancing over at him. "Castle, what-"

"No, never mind. The Director called. Woke me up."

"Shit."

"Uck!" James shouted, straightening up.

"Not quite that bad," Castle chuckled. "He wants you to report in."

"Me?" Kate said. "Shi-" She glanced at James. "Crap. Why me?"

"He doesn't believe me? That's my guess. He wants your status update, a report on what went down. France is claiming Jolin as one of theirs."

"One of - theirs? Counter-espionage? She was a researcher. But maybe she was in development for them?" She was trying to pull James out of the tide pool so his feet would dry before their walk up.

Castle took the boy from her. "Well, I don't know through what channels, but that's the information the Director's getting. I don't believe it, but now we've got to maneuver in that framework."

She rubbed her forehead as James tried to lean out of Castle's arms. This wasn't bad, but it wasn't great either. "All right. I'll call him."

"Next week is fine. We can work on it, what we'll say."

"Yeah," she sighed.

James was struggling now to escape, climbing Castle like a jungle gym. "Hey, JP, look at me, kiddo. I know you're endlessly fascinated by the water, but we're all going back to bed. Come on."

Castle stood up with James, curling his nose at Kate when he got wet swim-trunks against his shirt for his trouble. Kate only smiled, standing up with them and scratching James's back. She put a kiss to the damp skin between his shoulder blades - he smelled of sunscreen - and she took Castle's free hand.

"All right," she murmured. "Back to bed for all of us."

She was willing to play along.

* * *

After a handful more days, Castle knew it had to stop. While his own sleep schedule was a consistent four hours, and he was set, Kate was still lying awake at night. He'd been hanging out while she attempted to sleep, staying in the bed with her just to keep her there longer, but it didn't seem to help.

This morning, she was actually asleep and he was zealously guarding it. He'd turned off the baby monitor entirely, certain he'd hear James if there was a problem next door, and he wasn't even going to move for fear of waking her.

This up all night, sleep all day stuff had to stop. She needed real sleep, restful sleep, and this was turning them inside out. If he could help it, she was going to stay in bed until at least seven.

So he saw the moment his phone display lit up and he snagged it off the bedside table and hopped off the mattress. He answered in a low voice even as he was disappearing out the bedroom door.

It was the Director. Fuck. The man couldn't give him a week?

"How are things, Agent Castle?"

"Doing well," he said, truthfully enough.

"What's the status report on Agent Beckett's injuries?"

He grit his teeth and headed through the living room to the couch, slumping down into it. A necessary, small lie. Beckett hadn't been injured so much as exacerbated her original injuries, but they'd decided on _gunshot wound_ after Paris and now-

"Agent Castle?"

"Seems to be healing," he said finally. "Sir, thank you for giving us this time."

"I understand. I do. And your division seems able to run itself."

If Castle detected a trace of sarcasm in the Director's voice, he had only himself to blame. He'd set up his department to run fairly independently of himself for this very reason. He wanted to be able to be home with his family when they needed him.

"I have shift reports, daily summaries, and weekly reviews. If something does slip past me, Reynolds and Esposito are already on it. My team of analysts-"

"Under Beckett's supervision," the Director interjected. "And how much supervising is she doing?"

"More than you'd think," he said. If the Director detected bitterness in _his_ voice, then fine. Let it be to Beckett's credit. "She and Ryan are in daily communication. She's up on the Crimea situation as well."

"Ah, that's good," the Director murmured. "Still. I want a summary from you, Agent Castle, of the entire breakdown of authority and responsibility. What duties lie with which people? This is important."

"Yes, sir," he answered, rubbing a hand over his chin. "That should be easy. It's how I run my division whether I'm there or not."

The Director made a noncommittal noise. "God knows you're better than your father."

Ah, and there was the point of this conversation.

The Director went on. "Anything on that front?"

"The Joint Task Force is still operational, under Denver from NSA," Castle pointed out. "He could give you a more precise briefing."

"I call Denver and I get the NSA's special brand of assholery."

Castle grunted. "Yes, sir. I understand."

"Give me an update, would you?"

"Yes, sir. We have operators in Rome, Paris, and Normandy doing daily surveillance of known locations, but Black doesn't stay long enough for us to assemble a team."

"It's sounding more and more like a kill than a capture," the Director muttered.

Castle sighed. "I'd really like that," he muttered.

But Kate would kill him. And they had a deal. He snitched to his father and his father kept feeding them medical data on the regimen.

"All right, son, we'll leave that for another time," the Director said. "Send me your status reports, include something about the JTF, and don't forget to keep me in the loop. When do I hear from Agent Beckett?"

"She's asleep," he said fiercely.

"I'm giving you two more days."

And then the Director hung up.

* * *

Castle woke her at eight, dragging her out of what looked to be a heavy sleep.

She rubbed her hand down her face. "Castle." It was a warning.

"We're trying something new."

"Fuck."

"Uck!"

Castle dropped the boy down to the mattress and let him crawl up to his mother. Kate winced and cracked open an eye. "How are you awake?"

"I got him up too," Castle admitted. He lowered the laptop to the bed with much more care than he'd done the baby, and then he snagged the ends of Kate's falling-down pony tail, tugged. "Something for you to read first. Give you a chance to wake up. James. You're with me."

The boy had gotten to his feet unsteadily on the mattress, bounced it with a slow-spreading grin. "Uck."

"Not really in this case, no," Castle told him, leaning in to scoop him up. "Try again next time. Kate? I'm serious. Wake up."

And then he left her to it.

Let her read his story.

* * *

 _He has a secret life._

 _She knows it's not important, that beyond herself, he of course has interactions with the whole wide world that do not concern her. But it's the secret life she wonders about._

 _What did he do before he met her? He never speaks of it. He has whole chunks of decades missing from her inventory of him, her husband, and she wants to know._

 _The secret life._

 _Could he sketch them all, and might she then understand?_

Kate closed the lid on Castle's last chapter, for chapter it was, _novel_ it was, no longer some sweet scene that touched something private about them. It was an entire book he was writing, and not just for her, but for the artist and his muse as well.

Her husband, the spy. Kate laughed and rose from the bed with the laptop cradled in her arms, moving for the door. The island house was spread out along a patch of two mowed acres, the caretaker's cottage behind it on the back half of the property. Their master bedroom finally held a king-sized bed, a simple dresser, and a chair they often used to slip the boy into or out of clothes or sleep.

Their son whose life revolved around them, whose life _was_ them. They did everything for him, and he didn't have a thought separate from them.

Well. Did he?

The secret life.

She'd seen his face when he peered down into a tide pool, how absorbed and otherworldly he seemed then. How she called his name and it took him a moment, as if traveling a long journey. Maybe the secret life began then, the thoughts coalescing in a boy only ten months old.

"Kate?"

She stopped still in the hallway and saw her husband sitting at a brand new kitchen table - bewilderingly displayed in the middle of the living room, nowhere near the kitchen. She still had the laptop cradled against her.

"The secret life," she murmured. And then walking towards him, "When did you do all this?"

"Do what?"

"Anything. All of it. The book. The island."

Castle shrugged and stood up, and she saw that James was coming through the wide open living room, the morning sun on his dark hair and lighting him up. He ran to her and she dropped to meet him, holding the laptop away, using one arm to hug her son.

James wriggled in close a moment, a strange noise in his throat, before he wriggled free again and kept running. Heading down the hallway towards the open door of his own room, disappearing inside.

Castle had moved to meet her, took the laptop from the crook of her arm, dusting a kiss to her temple. He went back to the kitchen table and put the laptop down on its surface, and she followed, lacking any real direction.

"The island," she said. "For a start. When did you even think of it?" It was difficult to see past her own exhaustion.

"Kate, I get maybe six hours of sleep? Usually four. On the regimen. Have been for about four months now, so there's time."

"Time for the secret life," she murmured, sinking down to the kitchen table in a chair that was also new. And all set up in the living room.

"I'm not... it's not like that," he muttered, coming to stand beside her chair.

"No, I know," she reassured, reaching out to take his hand. He was tall, a broad man, strong. But she held his hand. "It just occurred to me, suddenly, that you have a secret life."

"I don't-"

"It's me," she laughed. A soft laugh, a little apologetic. "I'm your secret life. This."

He jiggled her hand - flicking his wrist to bump their clasped hands against his thigh. Like he was thinking. He came and sat down in the chair perpendicular to hers, laid her hand on the table. "You're not the cover," he said quietly.

"No," she sighed, leaning in and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I know. That's not what I mean, sweetheart."

He embraced her back, an arm tight at her shoulders, and then she leaned away, her fingers smoothing the hair at his temples.

"Even when you have hours where I'm asleep and your thoughts are all your own, when you could do anything, be anyone, you're still... you. This you. You're buying us an island and writing a story you share with me, and giving our kid breakfast or plotting ways to get us home. This is your secret life; there is nothing more hidden and precious to you than us."

"Nothing," he echoed, staring back at her, promising.

She tilted her head and leaned in and kissed him - very softly, didn't want to jostle anything in him that seemed to be clicking into place - and then she leaned back.

He was smiling. Smiling with his eyes. "The secret life," he answered. "Everything else is the cover."

They had a moment, just the two of them with eyes communicating, a shared knowing, as impossible as it sometimes seemed to know anyone at all, but they did. They knew each other.

And then Kate turned her head to look back down the hallway. "It's awfully quiet."

"He's always quiet," Castle said immediately.

"Well, I'm all for letting him have his own secret life," she murmured, turning back to him with a smile. "But for a while yet, let's be in on it?"

Castle grinned. "A while yet."

She rose from the chair and headed for the boy's room, knowing even as she did that James had nothing in there to make trouble with. But she went anyway.

For a while yet, she wanted inside on her son's secret life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Close Encounters 28**

* * *

Castle could see her in the sunlight, white skirt twined in her legs as she stood at the end of the dock. The sound of the ocean lapping against the pilings covered his approach, but she turned anyway, turned to look at him, and she was smiling. Her hair snaked around her face, and she lifted both hands to push it back, knotting it behind her ears.

He walked down the dock to her and she grinned, lifted her hands out for the baby he carried.

Deja vu rolled through him, fast and fierce, but she was taking James out of his arms and cuddling the boy. "No, JP, you can't swim in that." She laughed and looked at Castle. "He keeps trying to-"

"-reach for the water," Castle finished, mouth dropping open.

"What? Why are you-"

"I just - didn't we tell this story? I told you this story once, about us." He reached out and snagged James's belt loop, kept him from leaning down for the water under the dock. "In Rome."

"After Russia," she murmured, cupping the back of James's skull. Her eyes roved to the island behind him; he could see her tracing the lines of the rolling hill and the birch trees bending to the weight of the wind. "You did. I had thought the dock at the lake, but this is it. You're right." Her lips turned up into a smile that was a little goofy. "Making my dreams come true, super spy."

He grinned, watching her shine in the summer sunlight bouncing across the water. Beautiful, relaxed, the wind snaking her hair and driving it into her eyes so that she kept lifting a hand up from James to curl it behind her ears.

"You are my dream," he answered, got that replete smile for his trouble.

But the sound of the engine cut into their reverie, and Castle stepped past her to the end of the dock, watched their boat coming in. He saw the hailing wave from the prow and waved back, felt Kate at his side and the boy.

He took James again to free her arms, and they both stepped to the edge of the dock and leaned against the smooth, wooden railing. Kate moved to the ropes and dropped her hands there, practically up on her toes in anticipation.

The boat came in under the slow guide of an expert hand, a soft thump of the prow against the bumpers lining the dock. James startled at the nudge and lifted up in Castle's arms, his fists gripping his father's shirt as he looked towards the boat now before them.

The boy made his surprised face and let out a gasp, turned back to Castle as if to share his wonder.

"I know," he whispered to his son. "Amazing, isn't it? Papa came back."

"Dad!" Kate grunted when the rope dropped into her arms but she wound it around the piling, securing it with an expert knot. Castle and James were silent, waiting on the dock while the trawler secured its mooring.

Two men came out on the docking bridge, leaned against the railing, and James perked up, apparently recognizing them. They both waved back, and the man who'd been throwing Kate the ropes came forward to put across the docking plank.

It was actually her father. Reese was the one who'd been piloting, of course, from the pilothouse, and he was heading back inside to come down to them. But Jim Beckett was already moving across the gangway and enveloping Kate in his arms.

"Katie," he said with relish. She hugged him back, a kiss on his cheek before they released at the same time. Jim came now to them, hugging Castle too, taking James into his arms immediately. "James, you've been good for your poor parents, haven't you?"

"Uck!"

Castle blanched but Kate laughed, sliding her arm around his waist as she reached out and tapped James's nose. Their son was burrowing into his grandfather's side with a happy wriggle, but he suddenly stiffened and jerked away, wrinkling his nose.

Jim laughed, clapping the boy's back. "Sorry, son, I smell like fish. I reek of fish, and I know it."

"Fish?" Castle said, sniffing a little. "Yes, whew, yes, you do."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Kate grinned. "But come on. Up to the house. Get you a shower and some lunch? Tell us all about the great wide world."

"She's got cabin fever," Castle explained, leading the way up the dock. "Can you tell?"

"Cabin fever?" Jim gasped. "Kate? Never."

"All right, all right. Joke at my expense. I _was_ going to make you lunch, but not now."

"No, thank you," Jim chuckled. "Let Rick make it instead. Safer that way."

* * *

Her father laughed hard when he saw the kitchen table set up in the living room. He unwound his arm from James and rapped his knuckles on the wood. "Not quite where I was expecting it to go."

"Just got it," Castle admitted. "I was excited, so I set it up while Kate was asleep. The interlocking wood - it's just amazing."

"I'm glad you like it," Jim said, lifting his gaze to beam at them. "Fits in with the feel of the place."

"Dad, you've done a really wonderful job. All the furniture - it has character."

"Is that your way of saying it's cheap?" Jim laughed. "I found myself haunting the Goodwill store. But that's because this table. I found it first, and I really wanted it. Stupid, I know. But I had to make sure I had the budget for it."

"You got the beds at Goodwill?" Kate moaned, lifting a hand to her forehead. "Dad. That's so gross."

"No, no," he chuckled. "Not at Goodwill, not that. Mattresses are new. I promise."

"Oh, thank goodness," she muttered.

"All new. I got the room suites a value furniture place, on sale too. I was pretty proud of those." Jim looked so much more animated than the last time Kate had seen him, nearly three weeks ago. Stronger. The sea wind, the expedition to furnish their island home, that had done it.

"Dad, your room is ready, as you know," she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He really did smell like fish. "Get a shower, clean clothes, and Rick will make us lunch."

"Ah, good. Looking forward to it." He shifted James from his side, set the boy on the table, standing, his hands holding the boy's. James gave his shy smile, seemingly surprised by the change in venue, glancing between his parents.

Kate wriggled her fingers at him. "You can stand there. No running. But Papa has to go shower."

Her father leaned in and kissed the boy's forehead, rubbing his dark hair so that the kid rocked backwards. James sank down to his haunches, apparently cautious with his balance this high up, and Jim let him go.

"All right, showering now. Be right back, my boy. I have gifts for you when Reese brings everything in off the boat."

"Oh, gifts-" Kate started, but her father had already waved her off and was heading for the back hallway and the separate suite just off the kitchen. She sighed and put her hands on her hips, glanced to Castle. He was no help; he was actually nudging James to stand and prodding him towards the edge of the table.

"Come on. We'll jump."

"Jump," she echoed. "Castle. Maybe that's-" James jumped, and Castle caught him, both of them with delighted grins, exactly the same. "Not safe," she finished lamely. Not safe? Seemed rather too late now after everything.

And look at the way they schemed together, two heads, James's dark hair against Castle's lighter brown, blue eyes to grey. James gripped Castle's chin in one baby hand, fingers flicking over the short beard, squirming when Castle rubbed his face against James's cheek to make him laugh.

A short grunt, a more desperate giggle, and then outright laughing, his old man chuckle, so deeply happy.

Just at that moment, a knock on the door brought Kate out of her upwelling joy, made her turn towards the noise. She went through the short entry and found Reese at the screen door, holding up two massive bags in his hands.

"Oh, Reese, thank you," she sighed, opening up the screen door for him. She took a bag from his hand, surprised at how heavy it was, but then even more so by how easily her muscles locked and took it.

The conditioning program Castle had her on was working then. More than she'd thought.

"Yes, ma'am, Agent Beckett. He's got two more."

"Not just for bringing up the bags," she said swiftly. "For taking care of him, protecting him. Thank you."

"Any time," he said, a nod of his chin. He put the bag carefully down in the entry. "And not just because it's my job. Any time."

She grinned back at him and he seemed to flush, averting his eyes and turning back around for the door. "Let me just - I have two more bags down at the dock."

* * *

Kate sat with James in her lap at the kitchen table - Castle had moved it carefully into the dining room that connected the open living room with the open kitchen. Her father was still taking a shower, getting dressed and settled again, and her husband was making them lunch, as he usually did.

Hunt would walk up from the caretaker's cottage any minute now.

James was pushing together a lion puzzle - shapes for eyes and muzzle and mane, not too complicated for a baby only ten months, maybe a little too easy for him though. He kept taking it apart and doing it over again, as if he thought there ought to be more.

Kate smoothed her hand over his hair and put her nose to his head, inhaled softly. He smelled faintly of the lavender scent from the bath the night before, and laid over that was the daily stuff: salt of the ocean, sunlight, the faint impression of playing hard and sweaty. A boy, a baby, her son.

Her restlessness faded in these moments, like someone had pulled the plug on her anxiety and let it drain out of her, slowly, until there was nothing but the warm solid boy in her lap and the love that was as natural and automatic as breathing.

It had never been a choice, falling in love with him. She thought, maybe, it had been a choice with Castle, somewhere back there; she had chosen him. She wasn't sure how, but there'd been plenty of moments since where she'd looked over at him and decided, again, _yes, I love you even though-_

None of that with her son, and he had none of that with her. He loved her, adored her; he was thrilled to see her when she'd been gone, and he cuddled with her unconditionally when she embraced him. All that love that welled up and overwhelmed her was mirrored in his every movement, as if he couldn't help it either.

She kissed his round little ear and smelled the baby of him and closed her eyes.

Castle was there, nudging her cheek with two fingers as he set a plate before her. She roused and looked up at him, and had no trouble loving him. None. Not today. There were times, there were fights, there were events that pushed and pulled at them, but not today.

"Hunt's coming up the path," he said then, sighing. He looked back at her and she wondered suddenly if it was for him, today. If _every_ day when Hunt came up the path for lunch, Castle had to decide again, _yes, I love you even though-_

"I love you, Rick," she said quickly, catching his hand before he could move back to the kitchen for the rest of their lunch. She slowed down her words so that he would feel it. "I'm in love with you."

His fingers turned in hers, brought their clasped hands up to skim her jaw. He leaned over and kissed her. "Thank you for that."

He took James out of her lap and stood up again, moving for the high chair even as the side door opened, the alarm chiming to let them know.

Colin was here.

Kate kept her eyes on her husband for as long as she could, and then she stood to greet his brother.

* * *

It seemed somehow worse with Jim here to bear witness.

Castle set the places around the new table, and Colin Hunt remarked about its sudden appearance, shook Jim's hand in appreciation for the steady accumulation of furnishings in the caretaker's cottage, and they all sat down.

The fragile look in Kate's eyes remained, grew impossibly more brittle as conversation was laid awkwardly, painstakingly over the course of a simple meal. Croque monsieur and tomato soup, thickened by a few cuts of vegetables they'd had imported from Nantucket, a lunch designed to be easy but to require work, effort, so that the participants didn't have to speak to one another.

Still they tried. They were always trying. It was an uneasy island truce, and Castle could see it all in her eyes, how every nuance and ripple of emotion speared her, every word a rough edge, every meaning dissected and splayed out in her mind's eye, looking for deformities.

Deformities abounded. The tension crippled. She was part of the problem, of course, and Castle knew that too, but it was impossible to have a conversation with her about Colin Hunt without it leading to her misguided attempts to soothe him, reassure him, when he had never needed reassuring.

"How are you, Colin?" her father asked. Which Castle found bitterly hilarious because the question had been asked at every careful lunch, like two members of a reluctant peace accord sizing each other up and probing for weaknesses.

"As can be expected," Hunt released, as he always had. But the casual earnestness of Jim's face must have finally translated to Hunt, because he cleared his throat and shrugged, a faint tinge of pink at his neck. "I'm healed, thank you, Jim. Heading out, now that you're here."

"Heading out?" Kate queried, her voice pitched in that too-flat register that made even James's head come up, staring at her. She saw the boy in the corner of her eyes and turned to him, appeasement washing through her, some of the tension unwinding her, one spiral only, but she moved to shred James's toast for him.

Castle let her, even though James no longer needed his toast cut into small pieces. He just gnawed on it, usually, and it was fine. But Kate was desperate, and it cut him, and he stayed in his seat, trying not to watch her.

"You're leaving," Jim said into the silence. His eyes took in Kate though, took in Castle's measure as well, and he came back to Colin. "I guess you're ready to go."

"I guess," Colin said, shaking his head. He fiddled with his spoon against the bowl and Castle's shoulder came up, though he kept a firm fist around his roiling anger. "I'm sure I've worn out my welcome."

"You haven't," Kate said immediately.

 _You have, before you even arrived_. Castle took a sip of his soup and let the heat of the broth burn his throat. Like napalming a village, wipe it out.

"Now that the trawler is back," Colin said, a fast glance of his eyes at Kate, like a drive-by, leaving her perforated. "I can go. I'll take it to Nantucket and then on to the mainland. Time for me to be useful."

Now even Kate was silent, her hands going still at the baby's highchair tray, her fingers slowly dusting off crumbs. Castle watched them fall, shifted his gaze to James and saw the moment the boy reached out a hand for her and arched his back, longing all over his face.

It made him hurt.

James opened his fingers, pleading wordlessly, and finally Kate came back to herself and saw him too, and she snagged that hand and kissed those sticky fingers, smiling her _mommy is fine_ smile that never fooled anyone.

She was restless and worried, she was exhausted midway through her day, she was refusing another infusion because it took from James, and she needed - she needed to just - not be Kate Beckett for one damn week.

One fucking week. Just sit down and take it and stop _going_.

But his wife, oh, she was his wife, and if she ever did actually comply, he would know something was truly, deeply wrong. He would know he had lost her, vitally, and it would be the end of his world.

So he went back to his lunch and forced another spoonful of scalding soup down his throat and made smalltalk with a man who had fallen in love with her as well, deeper and deeper the longer he was here, an occurrence Castle had purposefully and intentionally created for that very reason.

If Colin loved her too, he'd never betray her.

And she would be safe.

* * *

She knew what he was doing, had done. She knew what her husband had done.

He had set it up so that Colin Hunt had fallen in love with her. Not just attraction, not just a strange spark, but all out.

Kate pressed her hand over her eyes and tried to wash the feeling out of her, the awkward and ill-fitting feeling that this man was being recast in a role he would only suffer for.

For her.

But she didn't stop it. She hadn't stopped it.

She hadn't said a word to Castle to stop it.

If Colin Hunt could slide into the Collective like nothing had happened, if he could become their man on the inside, then she could survive it. This protracted, impossible, deflating feeling that made her unclean, impure, that clung to her skin and made her seem unworthy of the joy she stole out of thin air.

At least lunch was over.

The back door chimed as it opened, and the room took a collective breath; the screen door slammed as Colin Hunt left and it released them all as well.

James fell into her knees and gripped, climbing. She straightened up in the kitchen chair and turned her face to him, eased her hands under his arms to help him into her lap. He cuddled, squirming and wriggling, his corduroy elephant clutched in one hand.

He spoke so little. Names, quiet insistence in the middle of the night. He was as exhausted now as she was, since Castle had woken them at eight. Kate lifted her head to Rick as cleared the table. "A nap?"

"No," he said, shaking his head grimly. "You're up. He's up."

She grit her teeth and touched her forehead to James's, kissed cheeks and nose as he tried to fall closer to her, tried to snuggle in to sleep. "Sorry, Daddy has laid down the law."

"Laid down the law?" her father asked, a little surprised laugh.

Jim would be surprised. How much Castle dictated these days and how she let him, uncertain how not to, unsure where the line was when Colin Hunt prowled the edges of their every interaction.

Or maybe it just seemed that way after lunch. By nightfall, when Colin was a bad taste in the back of her mouth, when the sunset had dazzled them all and they'd stripped in the bay and gone swimming and floated the baby between them, laughing a little breathlessly just because it felt so good to finally be weightless, all this was easier.

And then the day began again.

She'd been mute too long; Castle took over explanation. "She and James have gotten their sleep cycles flipped. They wake at night, sleep all day. We're breaking it."

"We?" she muttered, scowling down into James's face. "What _we_ , huh, Jay? Just you and me suffering over here."

"Believe me, Katie, we're all suffering," her father chuckled.

Castle froze. Kate lifted her eyes and tried to beg with him, wordlessly, tried not to make it worse, but he looked at her and the flinch went violently through him. Like he couldn't stand it.

She swallowed and gathered James against her, working at loose limbs and flopping head and falling feet, trying to get it all together. "We'll head to the bay. Play in the sand. Keep us awake."

"All right," Castle said, turning his back to her.

Kate cast a far-too-disconsolate look after him but then headed for the boy's bedroom to find sunblock, to get started, to be someplace other than here.

Her father caught her before she could make it. His eyes were careful, his hand on her shoulder was light enough she could slip away. "Kate?"

"It's okay," she said tightly. It wasn't okay; she was done. She felt done.

"I can take him to the bay," he said softly. "I've missed him." Her father's eyes cut to Castle and back to her again, but he didn't say it. He had long ago stopped outright telling her what she should do next, and despite the years of alcoholic abandonment that welled between them at moments like this, she desperately wished he would anyway.

 _Tell me what to do; tell me how to fix it._

Her father's hand lifted from her shoulder and she despaired ever getting back to a place where any of this was easy. Had it been, ever, easy? Had she and her father always turned a blind eye to the hurt and pretended they were amiable relatives forced to be nice to one another?

"Daddy, take him." She shoved James in his direction before ennui strangled her. "Take him down for - a couple hours at least. At least." She felt herself tumbling on a trajectory she didn't understand completely, but she was desperate to get there, to the end of things.

"We'll go up to the trawler," her father said decisively. As if he could see the path she was heading on. "I can show you all over the boat, little wolf. How's that sound?"

James made a mewling noise and canted towards her, but Kate caught his hands and kissed them, pressing his little baby fingers to her lips, realized strangely that she was smiling. "It's okay, James. Go with Papa. I need to - talk to Daddy."

"Don't talk so much," her father blurted out.

She stared at him and he stared back, his cheeks rising pink and her own rising with that old _who are you to tell me_ -

But she cut it off, clean, crushed it to nothing. "Don't talk?"

"Go with your gut, of course," he amended, shrugging and holding James against him, stepping back in the hallway. "But you know - fixes are simple when you're a guy."

She took a breath, eyes sliding past her father to glance at Castle still cleaning up the kitchen. "You'll stay... at the boat for a while?"

"Hell, Katie."

She let out a little laugh and glanced back at her father. "Mom would have-"

"Yes, yes, fine." He shook his head violently, and James giggled and copied him, both of them like dogs shaking off water. Kate bit her bottom lip and came in close to wrap an arm around them, breathing easier for the first time in... weeks.

"He's a guy, yes, but I'm the one who-" Kate grunted and closed her mouth, eyed her father. Oh, to hell with it. "That's how I solve my problems, Dad. Not him."

"You'd be surprised," he got out, not looking at her directly. "Just. All I'm saying. I get the feeling you've been talking too much."

"My therapist would hate you," Kate laughed. God, it felt good to laugh. To release. She had the urge to run to Castle and share it with him, _watch me_.

"King loves me," her father defended.

King _did_ love him. Well, then, that told her something, too. "Yes, he does. Now clear out, would you? Leave us the house for at least a few hours."

Her father closed a hand around James's ear and pressed the baby's head to his chest. "The things your mother says. Let's get you out of here."

"Oh, Daddy, you're hilarious. He's heard _so_ much worse."

"Stop it, stop it; I'm not listening," her father growled over his shoulder, already heading for the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Close Encounters 28**

* * *

Castle's head lifted when the door chimed, signaling someone coming or going. He stepped out of the kitchen and halfway towards the front entry, listening, but it had been a departure. Probably Kate with the baby, unspoken leaving, after everything. He probably deserved that.

He tossed the dish rag back towards the counter, suddenly weighted down far too heavy to do a single thing more. Let the dishes soak in the sink, let the crumbs stay on the floor under James's highchair. He'd clean up tonight, after they swam in the bay while the sun set, after things had balanced out and floated away and everything was lighter again.

"Rick."

He spun on his heel in the kitchen, surprised to find her there, mouth dropping open as he took her in.

She was wearing his black t-shirt; it barely dusted the tops of her thighs so that her legs were forever, ages. He sucked in a breath but his fingers were nerveless, and she came stalking towards him with the shirt falling off one shoulder so that he could see the red strap of her bra.

He was most definitely certain she had not put on a red bra this morning. Red. Fuck, what color were her panties? Was she even _wearing_ panties?

He swallowed when she stepped into his space and his hands came automatically to her hips, a flare of claiming that surged in his blood. _Mine._

"Dad took James to the boat to explore. Hours."

"Hours," he repeated.

"I locked the doors. I set the alarm; you think that's enough of a do not disturb?"

"Oh, hell."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Kate-"

"I'm going to bed," she whispered, leaning in so close that he could smell the butter from the toast on her lips.

"Bed," he croaked, unraveled by her.

"You won't let me nap, so you better come to bed with me, don't you think? Make sure I stay awake."

"Yes," he rushed out, like a groan. "I'd better supervise."

She chuckled and it made his body leap in response; he clutched her hips and dragged her against him, both of them gasping at the intimate touch, the collision of want.

"Oh, that's good," she whispered.

He enfolded her in his arms, closing his eyes against the kitchen, the sea-light, the reminders of lunch. "I love you, too. That's why. Why I-"

"Why we mangle each other so much," she sighed. He wanted to fall to his knees but she held him up, a kiss of teeth against his jaw rather than his mouth, another at his ear, a biting punishment that wasn't gentle. "Come make it up to me."

He coasted his hands down fast and gripped the backs of her thighs, pulled her up against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and already he was walking her down the hall, his mouth feasting on her neck, burrowing down the collar of that shirt, nipping the bra strap, her skin, finding his way by feel.

She squeezed with her knees and he took direction like a soldier, turning them into the bedroom and slamming the door shut with a kick of his bare foot. She arched and he collapsed them both down against the mattress, something feral scrabbling to life in his guts.

"You need to get undressed," she said. Her eyes were dark - the shadows under the leaves in the middle of the birch forest, too dark for sunlight.

"No," he countered. "You're going to do it."

She sat up with him, her fingers already scraping at his abs as she reached for his buckle. She was going to make it hurt; she was going to be too fast.

That was perfect.

* * *

Castle groaned when he hit the floor, laughing as she collapsed on top of him, both of them surprised to have fallen off the bed. His arms came up to catch her, palms pressed to the sweat-slicked tendrils of hair down her back. "Okay?"

"Getting there," she gasped, leaning forward into him. Skin to skin, flushed, not enough. Not even close to enough. "You?"

"Getting there," he echoed, touching his lips to her cheek. Her body went still, that reflex that had developed between them lately, these last few weeks, for her to pause and wait on him, as if she needed direction before knowing where the danger lay. He hated it. It wasn't Beckett.

"You're mad at me," she whispered, naked in his arms.

He buried his mouth in her neck, closing his eyes. "No. I'm mad at me. At him. At tainting the whole damn island with this when it was supposed to be the only way I could say thank you for killing yourself just to give us a son."

Her head lifted so that his lips brushed against her cheek, and then she was gripping him by the back of the neck. "No." Her nose nudged in against his and her mouth went to his but paused, halting. "No. Nothing is tainted."

"It's all tainted. I brought someone else into this-"

"You didn't," she insisted, rocking her hips into his so that his concentration scattered, like sand in the wind. "You haven't. We're not responsible for how other people feel - that's not on us."

"Then why do you act like it is? You carry it around, Kate." He pressed his fingers to her collarbone, skimming down over her heart. "You carry it here. I can feel it, how heavy it is, a thing between us."

"No," she said, pushing into him, the movement of her body against him driving all rational thought out of his head. One round wasn't enough, had never been enough, and all this damn talking was doing nothing at all to help.

He gripped her hips and nudged closer; she moaned and dropped her forehead to his, her lips skimming his nose.

"I love you," she whispered. "And I know you do too. Feel that instead."

She twined an arm around his neck and down his back, rocked into him. He growled and surged to his feet, took the four steps back to their bed and pressed her into the mattress.

Maybe he was angry with her. Maybe that was there too.

Her hand lifted and traced lightly over his lips; he stared down at her, violence brimming in his lungs.

"Do it," she whispered. "I did it to you."

"You did," he harshed. "It was good."

"Always is," she promised, lifting her head to kiss him. Her fingers were in the way at first, little things, enough to change the angle, make them both have to work for it.

All it was. All it would ever be.

Change the angle.

Castle stood up slowly, dragging his fingers down her legs as he escaped her kiss. She stared up at him, fearless, coming up on her knees to follow. He leaned in and snagged her around the waist, carried her off the bed.

Pressed her against the wall. Her eyes opened wide, flecks of gold in the green, sunlight shifting through the trees.

Kate stroked her fingernail along his neck and down. He grunted and she shivered, and there they were.

This was going to leave bruises.

* * *

Kate drew her knee in and nudged into his hip, his body heavy over hers. "Rick?"

"Gimme second."

Slurred. Breaths deep, slow. "You can't fall asleep," she whispered, combing her fingers through his hair. "I'm not allowed to sleep, so neither are you."

He grunted something and rubbed his cheek against her, finally lifting his head. He had a bruise forming around his eye, and she skimmed her fingers around it, not at all sorry for it.

She had bruises on her spine, for sure.

"Not asleep," he said, gruff, eyes closing at her touch.

"Close."

"No." He turned his mouth into her fingers and nipped, laid his head back down on her chest.

She rubbed at his ear and circled around and around, sighing a little as the satiety stole over her, made her lethargic.

"Not tired," he said. Somewhat too mellow for insistent, but insistent it was. "Unwilling to move."

She smiled, the afternoon light soaking the room, the walls, their bed. She was overly warm, but it didn't matter. "Fine distinction there," she murmured.

"Yes."

Mm, one-word answers from him. Good. She liked that. She shifted under him, draped her knee at his thigh and he moved just enough to give her space, his arm curling at her waist. He was playing with her hair.

"Are you jealous?" she asked.

"No." His mouth rubbed against her collarbone and he nuzzled in again. "But you're mine."

"Fait accompli."

He laughed, a quick huff of breath, and he lifted his head and looked at her. "Oh, yeah? Done deal?"

"Done deal," she admitted. "But you know that." She traced her fingers around his scratchy chin and back behind his ear, tugged him down to her chest again. "You'll write more story for me?"

"Such pretty words," he murmured, laughing at himself.

She yanked on his ear and he grunted, stopped laughing. "Don't mock my story."

"No, never," he amended, kissing the inside of her wrist. "I'll write more story. The artist. You know he wants to make her proud of him."

"You know she just wants him."

He laid his head down against her, no words, and she cupped his ear, soothing the places she'd tugged. Her fingers trailed down to his eye again where the bruise was warm. It would disappear, for the most part, in an hour or so. Regimen.

"Are you still tired?" he said then, fingers rubbing against her ribs.

"Yeah."

"The infusion."

She sighed, heavy, closing her eyes.

"Please, Kate."

"It hurts him," she whispered. "He cries."

"He falls when he runs, smacks right into the corner of the doorway, falls down the stairs, he even drowned a little in the ocean. Not once did you say, _carry him everywhere we go._ "

"That's not the same."

"It is the same. And besides that, if he knew, if he thought his mother needed-"

"He's a baby," she growled, pressing her hand against her eyes. "He's not old enough to choose and so we choose for him, and Castle, we have to choose _right_. We have to choose what's best for him."

"A mother. I choose a mother for him. That's what's best. The stick of a needle in his foot is nothing compared to having you healthy enough to be his mother."

She swallowed, rubbing her hand down her face, but Castle had lifted up now and was hovering over her. She opened her eyes to see him, made wordless by the ferocity in his gaze.

"I'm furious with you," he growled. "You could have been strong enough to handle all of this, everything, had you taken the damn infusion three weeks ago when I asked."

Her mouth dropped open.

"All this time, watching you struggle. I hate it. Falling asleep in the middle of the day, stumbling on the path down to the beach, nearly going under that wave-"

"One time," she gasped, protesting. "Only once-"

"And me afraid to leave you for a second, afraid to let you do anything, go anywhere, and that creeps into everything we do, Kate. It makes it impossible to trust, you or myself, and on top of that, on top of that, I'm _purposefully_ hurting you."

"You're not hurting me-"

"Don't lie," he growled.

She twined her leg around his, afraid he'd move, leave her bare. "You're not hurting me now."

"Oh, no? I wish I was. Maybe if I hurt you, you'd wake up and understand."

"Castle-"

"I _made_ him. Colin fucking hunt. I cultivated this sick unrequited love shit, and you're the one who carries that responsibility. Not me. I don't care that he doesn't get to have you. In fact, it makes me fucking _pleased_. But it hurts you. It hurts you and I'm a fucking hypocrite, telling Colin that the people who love you are entrusted with the preciousness of your trust, to not hurt you, to never hurt you-"

She hushed him, hushed him, mouth to his forehead, his cheek, his bruised eye (her roughness, she hadn't meant to, but she didn't regret it). He was shaking with every breath and she had been selfish too long, not seeing, only feeling it, feeling guilty and trapped and not seeing what she was doing to him either.

"Okay," she got out. "Okay, Rick. The infusion. You haven't hurt me. I hurt myself. We'll do the infusion."

He took in a huge breath, shaking with it, and turned his face into her chest, arms wrapping around her so tightly she couldn't move.

She pressed herself into him, giving over to it, nudged down until her cheek was against his, the scruff he hadn't shaved yet, hiding her face to his, the darkness of them together. She hadn't thought her recovery had anything to do with this, but that had been stupid, incredibly stupid, and she was sorry.

She was so sorry.

"I love you," he said into her. "I love you-"

"I know," she murmured. "I know."

"It'll be better," he said.

"I know."

Now that Colin Hunt was leaving, it would be so much easier between them.

* * *

Castle spread his hand out over the boy's stomach and quickly snapped the cloth diaper into place with the other, watching his son's eyes as they drooped with tiredness. "Not yet, son. You and Mommy are breaking this terrible habit."

James's eyes flared open, staring up at him, completely dazed. Poor guy; he was so very worn out.

Castle stood James upright on the floor - they had no changing table - and tugged the little jeans up over his diaper. Pulled the shirt down. He tossed the dirty diaper into the laundry hamper at the end, though he knew he needed to get to it quickly. Just not right now. Things to do.

"Hey, wolf, I know you're tired." He rubbed his hands with eucalyptus oil, the natural antibacterial agent, and then gathered the wipes and shoved them into the cloth bin they used as a changing station. "James. Come here."

The baby was swaying on his feet; the rest of the evening was going to be spent gently shaking him awake, Castle could see it coming.

He reached out, tugged on the pockets of the boy's jeans, pulling him forward. "Come here," he said, softer now. "I know you understand me. Some of it. I know you feel - feel things. Something. I know it's there. James, come here."

The boy stumbled at Castle's knee and fell into his arms, giving a pathetic, tired noise. Castle let him cuddle close, laying his head heavy on Castle's shoulder. He stroked the back of the boy's neck, pressed his kiss to the warm cheek.

"This is about Mama," he said.

"Ma-ma-ma."

"That's right," he whispered into the little ear. A soft shell, pink from the sun. Jim must have forgotten to put sunscreen on his ears, or else Castle himself had missed it one day this week. "Mommy needs your help. I need your help."

James rubbed his face into Castle's shirt. Castle didn't get up off the floor, he just stroked the fine, dark hair at the boy's neck and talked.

"It's going to hurt at first. Papa said you cried the last time. And it will make you sleepy, but you've done it a few times now. You'll be just fine. You believe me? Nothing will hurt you for long, little wolf, because you're just like me. Even if you don't know the words, feel how much I love you, how I'll protect you."

James was breathing noisily against Castle's ear, so he jostled the baby a little, startled him awake again.

"Sorry, but I'm not sorry," he whispered, rubbing his back now, softly. "Actually, you're better off than me. We're very grateful. So when Logan gets here, he's going to stick your foot with a needle and get some blood. But I'm gonna let you eat ice cream when you're all done. How does that sound?"

James mumbled something that could have been 'ice cream' or it could have just been the advent of dreams. Castle nudged him awake again, tugging his little ear to get a response. James roused and gave a sigh, rubbed his face into Castle's shoulder.

"Listen, son," he hushed. "Listen, now. This is important. It's about your mom."

"Mama," the boy mumbled, fading off as the word left his mouth.

"Mommy might not get any better than this," he got out, frowning fiercely into the boy's room. It was long afternoon and the light was turning the walls golden. "Mom might never really recover her full... it might be like this. And it's up to you and me to make it easier on her, best we can. Okay?"

James was heavy again, asleep. Castle stroked the back of his head and then shrugged his shoulder so that the boy startled, head lifting in surprise, coming awake. He pushed up with both little fists against Castle's chest, turned his head to his father, his grey eyes so clear.

"She did this for you," he whispered. "She did this for me. We're going to do this for her."

James blinked, solemn and listening. Always so ready to be serious.

"Okay, I know. Let's take Mommy down to the bay, and we'll swim until the sun sets over the water. Wake you both up a little. Papa gets to come, too. And Sasha will probably slink out of the trees like the ghost wolf she is."

James gave him a shy little smile and then ducked his head down to Castle's shoulder, collapsing there again.

Castle cupped the back of his head and stood up finally, turned to move for the door.

Kate was standing there, the loose white wrap skirt around her hips, the black bikini on, a tank top on over it. She was watching him. He wondered how much of that she'd heard.

"I'll take him while you get swim trunks on," she said, reaching out for James.

Castle handed him over, rubbed his hand over the boy's head. "Don't let him sleep."

"I won't," she said, chiding him in it too, her eyes flashing to his.

She'd heard some of it. How much, he didn't know. Enough that she wasn't going to say anything and risk collapsing the work they'd done after lunch today. Rebuilding.

He leaned in and lightly kissed the corner of her mouth. "Be ready in a minute."

Castle moved past her for their bedroom to change.

* * *

 _It might be like this._

Kate caught her breath as she felt his soft words go through her again, watched her husband's back as he walked down the path to the bay. The light was rich and forgiving this late in the day, the sun behind them and gloaming the softly-waving sea-grass. Her feet were bare against the warm dirt path, the whole island spotless.

They were striving to keep it that way. It was beautiful here. Unspoiled.

 _It might be like this._

She had never really considered the fact that she might not get any better. That her exhaustion was permanent, that her mitochondria might remain sluggish and work at not-quite-full capacity the rest of her life.

Mitochondria. Two years ago she hadn't even known what they were - something to do with the function of a cell. When she'd looked it up, all she'd gleaned was _powerhouse_ , having no idea what that really meant. A battery.

Well, her batteries were low, and instead of recharging like they ought to, they weren't making it back up to full strength. She had talked with Logan after Castle had made the call to bring him in for an infusion; he'd described it like a cell phone battery. If you let it drain down to nothing, and then full charged it, it discharged properly. But if you kept plugging your phone in when it was at half-power, three-quarters, then it grew weak over time.

It died faster.

She was dying faster.

Not _dying_. But in the way that all cells eventually died, from the moment of birth. She was just doing it faster, never letting her mitochondria get up to full strength after they'd been so severely, severely depleted. She kept plugging herself in and then jumping into the fray, draining what little battery she had.

Most people never got that far down. Chemotherapy did it, other things like that, and he'd told her _you need to give your body the chance to recover._

She had been doing that. She really had been trying - not carrying her son, not doing the heavy work, not even doing the work period. She'd rested and slept and she had been _good_ , and apparently it meant nothing.

That had been work for her; that was such damn difficult work - doing nothing, being still, crushing her every last instinct.

It made her want to sob. Her frustration had reached its zenith but there was apparently no downhill slope to ease her guilt-wracked conscience. She was stuck.

 _It might be like this._

God help her; it could _not_ be like this. She wouldn't survive it. She loved the man, she did; she loved her son. But immobility she would not survive.

"Katie?"

She turned her head quickly and saw her father watching her from behind. He reached out and gripped her elbow as they went down a slippery too-smooth slide of grass on the path, ostensibly for his balance but she knew it was for her own.

"Thank you for giving us the afternoon," she told him. "It's fixed - being fixed. You were a big help."

He patted her back as he drew up beside her. "Of course. Thank you for taking my help. There were times, in our recent past, that I never expected to be able to be your father again. Your dad."

She let out a shaky breath. It was all too true, and she wouldn't deny it. "I still sometimes - it's there, I know. But it works for us, you and me, Dad. It's part of our story." Their secret life. That's what it was; the rich, quiet grief that had struggled between them still held, but it wasn't malignant. It was a force for good. "You're my dad. You taught me to tie my shoes with the tree and the bunny going around its trunk."

Her father chuckled, eyes glancing at hers; his were silvery brown, and she wondered if that was where James got his own coloring. Recessive genes tucked away in her father.

"You were the one who would tuck me in at night because mom got fed up trying to answer all my questions. But not you - you answered them." She turned, giving him a sly look. "You do know I was just trying to postpone bedtime."

"Oh, I know," he grinned. "But I enjoyed answering. And often as not, it put you right out."

"I remember asking you what the difference between stocks and bonds were." She felt her own smile threatening to break the surface. "And once, I had you explaining a combustion engine."

"My favorite was when you asked how come your friends believed in Santa Claus. That took a while."

She huffed a breath, wrinkling her nose at him. "How old-?"

"Three. You were precocious."

Castle was laughing; she could hear him. He called back to them. "Precocious is a nice way of saying you were too clever for your own good."

"That could be true," her father admitted, nodding sagely.

She slapped his shoulder and glared, and he chuckled, Castle joining in. _James_ joining in, the little parrot.

"You were clever," her father said suddenly. "Smart and stubborn and undaunted. Tireless."

She let out a sigh and tilted her head into his shoulder even though the way the path wound down, she was taller than him. "I hope to be tireless again."

"You still are." This from Castle, turning around at the bottom of the sloping path, his feet already in the sand. He held James against him, but he was focused on her. "You still are, Kate. Tireless. That has nothing to do with needing sleep."

She stared back at him and her father subtly tugged James out of Castle's arms and kept on going, leaving them alone. Castle reached out for her and folded her into his embrace; she could smell the salt on his skin, the light.

"You haven't changed," he murmured into her temple. "The essential of Kate. The original of Kate. No matter what the regimen did, the pregnancy did, what the chelation did. No matter being my wife or James's mom. You're still you, layers upon layers, but still you. Good and pure and strong."

Kate wrapped her arms around him and cut off his orison with her kiss.

She didn't need to hear a single thing more; it was enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Close Encounters 28**

* * *

"Wow, it's gorgeous out here," her father said. Jim had come back out of the water, dripping as he grabbed a towel and dried off, and Castle glanced back to where Kate was still in the ocean, floating.

"It is," he said absently, eyes tracing his wife's profile. James dumped sand in his lap suddenly and Castle grunted, looking down at the boy. "Thanks, wolf. Just what I needed."

Jim chuckled and spread the towel over the edge of the blanket they used every night for this, and then he sat down, rubbing a hand over his face. "The heat is remarkable."

"Yeah," Castle murmured, eyes back on Kate, studying. He felt James playing in the sand he'd dumped in Castle's lap, and he had to drag his eyes away from Kate and back to his son. "Hey, kid, want to go cool off? Swim with Mommy?"

James seemed entirely unconcerned, rubbed his hand back and forth in the sand on Castle's thigh.

"All right, let's go," Castle said, dragging James to stand on his feet. The boy rocked forward, catching his balance, and then ran forward, stopping only when Castle didn't immediately follow.

Instead, Castle glanced back to Jim, wondered how to ask this.

"What is it?" her father said, eyes still closed in the sun.

"When did Kate first start walking? As a baby, I mean."

Jim cleared his throat and finally opened his eyes, but he watched James. "She was ten months old. Early."

He nodded, letting out a breath. James had been walking earlier than that, but it wasn't unheard of; it was still okay. Precocious, right?

He got to his feet, dusting the sand off his knees, shaking it from his swim trunks, and then he move towards his son. James lifted both arms to be picked up but Castle only took a hand, one finger for James to wrap his whole hand around.

"No," he said to his son, "you can walk."

James tugged away from Castle, fingers letting go, and he ran forward, rushing for the waves, kicking up wet sand in his joy.

Castle followed, close enough for a rescue, far enough for independence.

When James got to the water, he reached both arms out to the ocean, a bright laugh in the sun that still wouldn't give up the day. His chuckling must have reached Kate, because she began swimming in to them, clean and clear strokes until her feet must have been able to touch.

She walked in the rest of the way, slowly, her eyes on them. Castle reached down and caught James by the arm as a wave tried to take him, and he waited there until Kate joined them.

"Hey there," she said, squatting down to cup James's face in her hands. James pulled his head back and kicked a foot up in the water, splashing them, chuckling, his shy and sly smile peeking out. Kate rubbed her fingers through her his hair, tugging to push his head back a little. "My big bad wolf."

She stood, smiling at him, and Castle took hold of her hips, tugged her close enough to feel the wet slide of her bathing suit, her skin cool from the ocean. They had plans to make, now that Colin Hunt would be going back, but they could wait another sunset.

" _He's_ the big bad wolf?" Castle murmured, narrowing one eye at her.

She laughed a little and tilted in, but then suddenly she had disappeared from his arms, jerking out of his grip and down. For one heartbeat, he thought she had fallen, knocked off her feet by a wave, and then the terrible revelation came - not her, not her, _James._

Castle dived after them, but Kate was already there; she had him. She scooped their son out of the water, standing as the waves crested at her stomach, and Castle got to them a second later, a half-second, his arms coming around them both as if he could at all help.

Too late. But not her, not Kate. She had him.

James was choking on water, huddling down close to Kate, gripping the straps of her swimsuit in white fists. "You're okay, you're okay," she was saying, firmly, certainly, cupping the back of his head as he shuddered.

"Is he okay? God, he just - gone. I blinked and - James, Jay, breathe, kiddo, breathe."

"He is," Kate said quickly, nodding her head towards the shore. "He's breathing; he's fine. Show Daddy that you're okay, huh, wolf? Little drowned pup. You're okay."

Castle's heart was still tripping over itself, but Kate was totally calm, guiding them back up to the beach, soothing them both. She wrapped her fingers above his elbow and guided him to the blanket where her father was standing, concerned, but James coughed pathetically and huddled against his mother.

"Thank God for you," Castle croaked, staring at his wife.

She gave him a strange smile, and then she stroked the soaking wet hair out of James's face, rubbing his back. Castle ducked his head to kiss his son's cheek and realized he was gripping James by the neck, as if he couldn't let go. He released the boy to find his hands were shaking.

"Everyone okay?" Jim said, holding up a towel.

"Just fine." Kate took it easily, one arm cradling their son, and Castle helped wrap the boy in the towel, not sure his heart rate was ever going to come back down.

"James," he sighed, watching the boy still sputtering, little coughs that caught at Castle's guts. "James just - I thought I had a hand on him."

"It's okay," Kate said quietly. "It's okay now."

But it might not have been. Fuck, he had-

Kate squeezed his wrist in warning and Castle swallowed hard, fingers lifting to skate down the back of James's head.

She nudged her mouth into the boy. "Hey, hey, no more of that, wolf. It scared you, I know, but this is all fake coughing now. Huh? A little melodramatic." She stroked her fingers over James's wet hair. "Come on, lift up. Show Daddy that you're all fine. Just a little wet, a little scared."

James didn't want to budge, but Kate was shrugging her shoulder under him and he pitifully moved his head, glanced back at Castle.

Oh, cold. Cold. Recrimination in the little boy's eyes, but yeah. It was a little for show, some melodrama swimming in his eyes. Pouting. Tired; it had been a long day.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Castle ducked in close and kissed the warm but wet neck, and then he blew his lips against the boy's skin until James gasped and giggled. "Poor wolf. But Mommy saved you, didn't she? Our hero."

Kate laughed, and Castle raised his head, smiling at her, his chest easing, unknotting just like that.

She patted his cheek and adjusted the towel over James. "I know we'll miss sunset, but how about we take this tired boy back to the house, get a bath and go to bed?"

"Yeah," he answered. He'd had enough for one day too. "You're right. Night time, James."

Jim Beckett gestured to the blanket and towels scattered at their feet. "I'll collect the rest of this."

"Thanks," Castle said, always willing to give Jim a chance to help. He put a hand to his wife's back and nudged her towards the path. "We'll make dinner as soon as he's had a bath."

"No hurry, really. I'm going to stay out here for a while."

"The bay is calm," Castle said, frowning. "But-"

Jim chuckled. James sounded just like that, Castle realized. But her father was shaking his head. "Ocean safety, I know. You guys go on."

Castle nodded, spared a last look for Jim, and then he followed his wife and son up the winding path to the house.

* * *

Kate hummed as she swirled her fingers in the bath. James was so tired he could barely sit up in the inch of water in the tub, but she didn't try to hold on to him. She'd wear herself out if she did, and he recovered fast anyway, if he happened to get a faceful of water.

"James," she called softly, flicking drops into his face. He cackled, his laughter this side of hysterical because he was so tired. "James, ready to get out?"

Instead of whining to stay in the bath longer, instead of scooting away from her questing fingers, James came straight to her, hanging on her shirt as she carefully lifted him over the tub. She'd forgotten to snag the towel before she'd picked him up, and he soaked her shirt as he sank down against her chest.

She didn't care. She already had wet spots from her swimsuit.

Kate grabbed the baby's towel, the one with the wolf head that she pulled down over his eyes, and then she rubbed the ends against his skin, drying him off. Castle came into the master bathroom at that moment, his hands shoved down into a clean pair of khaki shorts, that frown permanently etched between his eyebrows.

Kate jiggled James a little and then stepped into Castle and released the boy against his chest, not bothering to wait and be sure that her husband had him.

He did though, a rush of air as he grabbed James and held him close, but Kate had noticed that Castle had avoided caring for him since the dunk in the ocean.

Swept out with the current. A cold knot in her guts when she remembered feeling the boy dragged past her knees. Damn. Swept out so fast.

She'd dived after him, grabbed him by a foot, pulled him back into her chest and stood even as Castle had reached them. A matter of moments. But then Castle hadn't touched James since. Punishing himself. She wasn't about to let that happen again, all that work of therapy after they'd gotten back from Paris. Hell, no.

She strode out of the master bath, shucking her shirt and searching for clean clothes. Behind her, Castle was talking softly to James as he left the room, murmuring something about dinner. Kate hung her swim suit over the knobs of the French doors that overlooked the cliffside, pulled on underwear and a bra, watching the sunset as she dressed.

Going forward, they would need a fence at the cliff or else a severely strict policy about James running around the island without them. She could easily imagine that when James was older, he'd sneak away for midnight swims with his dog, he'd roam the whole island in the summer, climb down the cliff no matter what they said, exploring.

 _So make him strong_ , she thought to herself. Make him smart and strong and they wouldn't have to worry.

Kate walked through the hall, half of which was windows overlooking that gorgeous cliffside view, and she came out into the living room, watched her husband with James. Their son was already strong, walking and running early, surviving some of the worst events of their life together - surviving and _thriving_.

Laughing in his seat during a car chase.

Thriving. Beautiful smart boy.

"Hey, here's Mommy, look. Mommy will feed you." Castle was smiling at her, James in his arms and a bottle propped between them. James gave her that shy smile and reached down for his bottle, snuggling into his father.

"He wants you," Kate told him, smiling back. "I'll finish dinner - just tell me what to do."

Castle looked like he might protest, but then he glanced at his tired son. "All right. Yes. I'll feed you, Jay. Give me a sec." His eyes came back to her, hesitating, like he didn't know.

They should all be thriving.

All of them.

It hinged on her. She made the difference, and she knew it. She was the one who set their emotional barometer.

"When does Logan arrive?" she asked him, crossing her arms.

Castle looked up from the chair where he was cradling James against his chest, such hope in his eyes. Such hope. "In the morning."

"Good," she said quickly, nodding. "What've I got to do?"

Castle blinked. "Nothing, Kate. Nothing at all. Infusion is just-"

She laughed, soft, a little breathless. "No, love. For dinner. What've I got to do to finish it?"

* * *

"Oh, Rick," Kate sighed softly. "Look."

He glanced beside him and saw James had fallen asleep in his highchair. His little cheek was plastered to the tray, already drooling, a fistful of scrambled eggs in one hand. Gone. Kate laughed softly, but she sounded about as tired as the boy tonight.

Castle leaned over and unbuckled the highchair, brushing egg and toast crumbs from the front of his pajamas. They had both agreed that bath would come first tonight, in case James couldn't make it through dinner, but the boy had rallied long enough for eggs and toast, and now Castle was going to put him out of his misery.

"Kate, come help me," he whispered.

She stood and came around the table, and Castle eased his hands under James's head, lifting him from the tray. Kate bent over and got the tray loose from its moorings, pulled it slowly away from James so that he was free. Castle maneuvered a hand under James's thigh and carefully lifted him from the highchair.

Kate brushed eggs from the creases of his pajama pants, sneaking it in before Castle got James against his chest. She kissed the back of the boy's head, smiling in that tired way, her hand hanging on to Castle's arm a moment.

"Night, little pup," she murmured.

"He says good night," Castle answered, carrying James towards the doorway. "Night, Papa."

"Good night, James," her father said, smiling fondly as they left.

Castle headed down the hallway and through the bleeding red light that came in the windows, the sun finally dying out over the water. James's face was bathed in that deep gold, his body heavy and slack and warm against Castle.

He brushed his lips to the top of his son's head and stepped inside his room, carried him to the crib, lowered him down. James didn't even roll over, so heavily asleep was he, and Castle stepped back, hesitating. He spotted elephant on the floor and picked it up, came back to tuck the stuffed animal into the corner of the crib.

"Night is for sleeping," he told the boy, knowing it was in vain, saying it anyway. He stroked his hand down the soft dark hair, and then he stepped away from the crib and left the room.

When he got back to the kitchen, Jim was cleaning up the dishes and Kate was standing uncertainly at the table. Castle touched her hip and she turned, clutched his shirt as she swayed.

"Just hit me," she apologized, the tight smile of exhaustion in the purse of her mouth. "I'm going to bed."

"Yeah. I'll help your dad clean up and then I'll be in."

"You're not tired," she said, something like an accusation in it.

"No. But I can work on the computer. I'm fairly sure I won't wake you tonight."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "No. You won't. Feel free to have a party in our bed tonight. I won't notice."

He lifted an eyebrow and she laughed, leaning in and kissing him lightly, softly.

"A party it is, then, Kate Beckett."

"Rodgers," she corrected, automatically, a reflex now. "The secret life, Rick."

He lowered his mouth to renew the contact of their lips. "Then I'll wake you for my party."

"Please do."

She smiled against his mouth and let go of his arm, drifted away from him, so tired he could see it in every line of her body. Keeping her awake all day had been the only solution he could think of, but it was brutal on his heart.

When she had disappeared down the hallway, he finally moved to help her father clean up after dinner, knowing the man would want to retire soon himself after his trip.

* * *

Kate slept, and she didn't wake.

Castle had the tablet and the laptop both in bed with him, the lights out so that it was just the soft blue glow of the screens. She slept curled on her side and didn't even stir.

James didn't wake in the night either, and Kate was down and unmoving, so Castle got his work done. Analytics had never been his favorite, Kate had always made it more interesting, the way they bounced ideas off each other and built method and operations together, weaving as one, but he got it done alone because he had to. The Director was on his case about it.

He had points of ingress into the Collective's data network and he was doing what he could to piece together their movements. Walker wasn't an analyst, strictly speaking, so Castle was going along behind him and checking each point, proving it over again, being certain.

Diane Jolin had been the leader of a fringe group inside the Collective who had wanted to maintain peaceful - for the most part - progress. In other words, no department of defense contracts during their tenure, no blip on the world's covert radar. It was how they'd stayed submerged for so long, skimming along the surface of academia rather than war.

He'd teased out points of contact, scientists and research facilities, and he thought he could do a pretty good trace of Jolin's steps these last few years. He would send teams, or he and Kate would go themselves, wipe out all existent forms of the serum just in case whatever Jolin had been experimenting with had infiltrated other sites.

Once the map was complete, the four locations marked and posted on the roster for the teams to observe and collate data, Castle finally turned off his tablet, shut down his computer. The dying blue light left the room in that deep black of their island's night, moonless, the stars like guideposts from point to point along the water.

But not inside their room. Here it was cocooning and cradling, here the night was keeping Kate in sleep.

He was most assuredly not waking her for his party.

Castle lowered the work to the floor beside the bed, far enough away that he wouldn't forget and step on it in the morning, and then he turned back to her. Her shoulder was smooth in the darkness, faintly grey, and Castle curled his body into an impression of her own, laid his hand on that pearled shoulder.

She didn't even move back into him. He nudged himself carefully forward, held her as if an awkward thing, not wanting to disturb her sleep.

He realized, as he laid there, that he was still listening for their son to call out, listening for Kate's breathing to change - one way or another.

But it was even, and quiet, and consistent. It came, breath after long breath, a steady tempo lulling him down into a similar contentment.

* * *

She rubbed her gritty eyes, still a little drugged with sleep. "I'm supposed to call the Director."

Castle sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he sat on the edge of the mattress. She rolled over in bed and curled her body around his, absorbing his heat.

"Yeah," he said finally. "You do. I'm sorry."

"Probably before Logan gets here, don't you think?"

"Good idea," he sighed. He lifted one arm and cautiously touched the back of her head, petting at her hair. She closed her eyes to feel it, not quite able to stop the humming. All that sleep and she was still tired.

"I'll take James for a swim," Castle said. "Get his feet wet, back on the horse, that kind of thing."

She opened her eyes. "Oh. Good idea. Keep him out of here."

"I won't let him out of my sight this time-"

"He's fine. You're fine, Rick." She didn't know exactly if this was going to be an issue for them, but Castle was taking James out to swim so he must be trying to get past it.

She lifted up in bed and hooked an arm around his shoulder to keep herself there, kissed his cheek. He nudged his nose into her, kissed her back, the briefest of touches, before shaking her loose and standing up. Kate shifted to her knees, put a leg out of the bed and her foot to the floor.

He snagged her by the wrist and pulled her to stand. But he didn't say anything more, simply squeezed her fingers as he let go, heading for the baby's room. He trusted her to know the cover story, trusted her to get this right.

She took up her phone and dialed the CIA.

She was put through to the Director's secretary in seconds, but once there, she was on hold for five minutes. Put in her place, no doubt.

When the muzak clicked off, his voice was stentorious. "Agent Beckett. Finally."

She pulled her ear away from the phone and winced. "Yes, sir. You wished an After Action report from me?"

"I most definitely do, though 'after-action' seems a little generous, considering how long it's been."

She didn't know what to say to that. "Yes, sir."

"And how are your injuries? No stitches pulled, no muscles sprained?"

She did a fast calculation of where she ought to have been after getting 'shot' in Paris. "Stitches are out, of course. Just muscle fatigue and rebuilding my endurance. It's been difficult because of the - chase."

"Yes, let's get right to that. Cut to the chase, so to speak. Diane Jolin, a French operative for years, was in fact an agent for the Collective?"

"I'm not sure agent is the correct term, sir." She rubbed the back of her neck and squeezed, the pressure point clearing the stuffy feeling in her head. "I'd say researcher, for sure. She was primarily medical, biological weapons, had Department of Defense contracts out-"

"Our own Department of Defense?" the Director said. "Why wasn't I made aware of that?"

"We've only just discovered it, sir. We had no prior knowledge. We were able to install a trojan horse on her network right before she came after us. My team is still analyzing that data."

"Your team at the Office in New York."

"Yes, sir," she replied, rubbing two fingers at the bridge of her nose. "They're on top of this, and I'm getting daily updates."

"Jolin. Tell me more."

"We don't have all the pieces yet, but one of our assets inside the Collective came to us with information that Jolin was planning an action on US soil." Roughly. Sort of. At least the Director knew of the Collective, had been given that update after Collective forces had moved on the Congo installation and driven Black underground. There was history here that she could cash in on. "We have very few reliable sources in the Collective, so we took it at face value, grabbed our asset, and ran."

"But she followed."

"Yes, sir. She did. She wanted him - dead or alive."

"And thus the car chase in New York City, the gunfire on Broome Street at your father's residence-"

"Yes, sir. All that."

"And then a massive explosion and fatal car crash in upstate New York that I _also_ had to clean up."

"Yes, sir," she responded. "Jolin had hired a mercenary team at some point in her - we're not entirely sure when. But she'd been looking out for herself. Possible that we'll recover that timeline in the data we're sifting."

She very carefully left out the fact that Jolin - not Beckett - had been shot in Paris, that Jolin had been undergoing experimental treatment (serum injections, most likely), and that Jolin had - in effect - gone crazy. And then had chased after her own _son -_ Colin Hunt - for his betrayal to Black's side.

"It sounds like she went off the fucking reservation, Agent Beckett. Chasing down your asset because he had actionable intelligence is one thing, but these are extreme measures."

"Yes, sir. We're uncertain as to what her motives were. It's possible she thought our asset knew more than he did, but regardless, she was evidently a mole. A plant. She'd been funneling John Black information for years."

"Agent Castle said as much. And you both think that Jolin assumed her cover at the Collective was blown - by your asset?"

"Yes, sir," she answered. "Working theory." It was so messy. But messy felt and sounded like truth, and she had to stay the course.

The Director was silent for a long time, and Beckett knew it was intended to work on her conscience, to make her talk, which meant that the Director didn't entirely buy their cover story. But it was all she had, all she'd give him.

She wouldn't talk.

"All right, Agent Beckett," the Director said finally. "File your report ASAP. I'll email you if I have more questions."

"Yes, sir," she said, trying to sound firm but finished. There was nothing else to say.

"And you make sure Agent Castle calls me with weekly updates. A phone call, you understand? None of that 'asking forgiveness' shit. He better get fucking permission next time."

"Yes, sir," she said, but the Director had already hung up on her.

Well. Shit. That could have been worse.


	5. Chapter 5

**Close Encounters 27**

* * *

Time for the infusion.

They met Logan on the dock, all of them, Hunt included. Kate had been insistent on that point; Colin had to know what was at stake, feel invested in this. She stood beside him, in between them really, while James rocked on his feet and clung to her shorts, excited by how the floating dock rippled with their movement.

Castle had said this morning when he'd taken the boy for a swim, James had dunked _himself_ under the waves, repeat performance, clearly enjoying it. They were going to have to watch him now, aware of how he wanted to go under. He had the rudiments of swimming, a baby's natural movement, byt she wasn't excited by the idea of him intending to drown.

"Ooh," James cried out. The boat was coming in, a hired speedboat from Nantucket that chopped at the waves. Kate was't excited with that either, speedboats in their waters, but Castle had firmly shut her down when she'd protested.

She needed the infusion sooner rather than later, he'd said. He didn't want to waste time getting the houseboat over there and back.

James tugged on the hem of her shorts and she dropped a hand down to brush the top of his head. He was bouncing a little, rolling with the movement of the dock, head bobbing, and she spared him a glance, smiling.

Sasha came slinking past, the whole family here now, and James reached out and grabbed a fistful of fur, went lurching after his packmate. Sasha went still and good, the dog in her smoothing out the wolf's sly instincts, and Kate noticed Castle pick up on her arrival. He glanced back to her, chin nod to the dog who had become harder and harder to catch.

Kate nodded back. The boat docked and thumped, the rope came spinning out and landed in Reese's hands. Colin swayed beside her, and she had to resist the urge to reach out a hand and catch him, help him; she was no better herself.

Actually, he was probably fine, completely. He swayed because the dock floated and he was finding his balance, because things were happening and beginning to start, while she was the one who was still not recovered.

 _It might be like this._

She didn't want that to be true; she couldn't face it.

She was a CIA agent, she was Castle's partner, and this couldn't be her life. Part of her longed for the damn infusion because at least then she'd be equal.

Her secret life.

She would be equal to the role, equal to her husband in the field they'd chosen together, espionage like a drug in her veins, and she could never be rehabilitated.

She didn't know what she did if she wasn't a spy.

If she wasn't _his_.

Those thoughts were too dark for today, for Logan's easy smile as he jumped down from the boat and strode across the dock for them. Castle got him first, that back-thumping embrace, and then James was scooped up into his arms and seriously talked with for a moment, settled back down right where he'd been, but now the baby was beaming up at him.

And then Logan came to her and gripped her by the arms, leaned in for a hug she was surprised to find herself flushing through. "Hey, there, Kate, my island beauty."

"Don't let your wife hear you talking like that."

"She knows, and she agrees. She thinks you're hot."

She laughed and hugged him back a little tighter. "And goodness knows, my husband doesn't care. Let's get this on."

Logan had a devastating grin for her when he pulled back, all of his old charm winking brightly in the sun. She remembered, suddenly, how much of a lifeline he'd been at Stone Farm, when Castle had been running away from her, running around on her with her mother's case, and Logan had given her that daily dose of scandalous encouragement.

"Let's get this on," Logan repeated. "Castle? James ready?"

"He's ready."

"Fuck," she whispered, closing her eyes against it.

Logan squeezed her arm, very tightly, and her eyes popped open. She saw then the concern riding at the back of his endless teasing, and she resigned herself to it.

"Castle's been loading him up with eggs," she sighed.

"Good. He knows how to take care of you, Kate. You let him."

"You were much cuter when you were flattering me."

* * *

Hunt sat at the kitchen table, witness to the events unfolding, while Kate Beckett was center stage - a role Castle knew she hated. Still, she sank into the couch cushions with minimum griping, even though Castle refused to let her hold James while he got his foot stuck with the needles. Instead she tried making faces at the boy, laughing him up.

He had his usual chuckling, hands wrapped around his feet and tugging so that he toppled backwards in Castle's arms, and Kate thought it was like he knew. He knew he was getting all the love this morning for a reason, and he was soaking it up, giving out his shy smiles and flirting eyes.

Logan knelt on the floor before them with his kit over his shoulder, reached out a hand and laid it on James's belly. He had a smile and that interactive voice, slightly higher, pitched to invite James's attention, and he waved the stick pen in front of the baby's eyes.

"Hey, James. Long time, no see, kiddo. Mommy's here, and Daddy's here, and you know what comes next when you see me, don't you? You're relaxed, you're just fine, and look, here's Sasha to play."

Kate had never seen Logan do this before, now that she thought about it. He kept switching the stick pen between his hands like a magician, peeling the sterile paper, switching to the other hand, peeling down the other side, switching hands again. James's eyes skipped between Logan, the pen, the dog, his mother, a shy, slow smile spreading across his face, entertained.

Logan kept talking, Castle held him so that the boy's legs were spread on top of his thighs, in easy reach, and slowly, slowly, the stick pen was revealed. James put a fist into his mouth and smiled around it, tilted his head back to look at Castle as if checking in, and then his eyes came back to Logan.

A fast confusion of hands back and forth and then Kate realized Logan had a second stick pen in his hand, peeling the paper as he went on with his magician's trick. The first stick pen went into James's thigh - his thigh! - not his foot, and Kate stiffened but James only went still and blinked and followed Logan's hand, perhaps a little more dazed, but no less interested.

The stick pen was withdrawing blood, filling up the thin ampule; Logan had withdrawn a second ampule from his bag, and now his hands passed the second stick pen and the second ampule back and forth, his voice chipper and teasing and light and friendly, just as it had always been, the blood being drawn from James's thigh. No one looking at it, the elephant in the room.

"You said foot-" she started, but Logan pressed her shin with his knee, shutting her up.

 _Don't ruin the magic._

She watched as he jabbed James with the second stick pen, his other thigh, Castle's hands now clamped high on her son's legs to keep him still, and this time something got through, some prick of feeling. James's lips twisted, as if he was thinking about it (was it her fault? for speaking and breaking the spell), but Logan got his attention once more, slipped him further away from the things happening to his legs.

"Hey, hey, James. Yes! Good boy, look at you, helping out your Mommy, sitting so still for Daddy. And here's Sasha, waiting for you to get down and run. Such a good runner, aren't you? Daddy keep him still, please-" And then, sleight of hand, the first ampule was filled and switched with the second.

How much blood were they taking from her son?

Her palms were clammy, but she didn't dare move. She watched James as his eyes tracked Logan's ever-moving hands, studied her son for signs of anything unpleasant, distasteful, but he was giving them all his shy smile, as if uncertain of why he still held their attention. Her heart was breaking with every feint and misdirection.

And then the second stick pen had filled its ampule and now it too was switched out, Logan secreting the two filled ampules up his sleeve or down his pocket, somewhere. James was beginning to look - blanched, she thought first, but no, just aware - aware, and his eyes traveled over to her.

"Mama?" His first word all morning.

"Kate," happy warning from Logan.

"Hey, my big bad wolf. Your shy smile. Are we okay?"

He was waiting on her; he was taking his cue from her. She leaned in and cupped his face, that hesitant, _is something wrong_ face, and she kissed his nose, angled her chin to bat her lashes against his cheek. He gave a breathless little sound, startled and adoring, and she pulled back enough to rub her thumb over the bruise at his forehead.

She had thought that bruise had disappeared last week, but here it was again. The blood being drained from him or was it new, from swimming this morning with his daddy?

"That's new," Castle said quickly. "That's new, Kate."

She released her own breath, but it was too late. She'd already panicked. James clamped his hands around hers, moved like he might arch out of Castle's lap and lunge for her, unhappiness in his eyes. She darted her hands down to his hips and kept him still, surprising herself and him as well - he didn't move, stared up at her, confused by her panic and yet her willingness to keep him there.

"It's a game," she said brightly, working fast to whitewash her own heart. _Compartmentalize, Beckett, you're good at that._ "A game, wolf. Sit very still. Like we're statues. Like we're Sasha in the woods."

James brightened, his eyes tracked to his dog, and the wolf came up, ears forward and stiff, attuned to the tension in the room just as much as the rest of them. Or more.

"Can you be so very still? Even if... I squeeze your fingers?" She took over the job of distraction, her voice pitched in the same tenor as Logan's had been, but her son's attention was riveted. Even without it. She squeezed on his little hands, varying the pressure, just the fingers, just his palms, and his smile came back to flirt with her.

"Okay," Logan said. "Okay, we're done. We're done."

She felt the walls collapsing in her chest, but she snagged her son and drew him into her body, even as she felt Logan pressing band-aids to the boy's skin. She hugged James fiercely, unable to help it, her kisses buried in his neck until he was giggling tiredly.

"Kate, don't," Castle was saying. "Don't, honey. You'll make it harder. He's fine. He barely felt it. He's fine, just tired."

"Shut up," she choked out, closing her eyes. "Shut up. Don't tell me what to do."

She stood shakily with her son and carried him away from the couch, away from Logan, realizing the second she did exactly what she was doing.

It was so hard to breathe around her heart's jagged edges. "Castle," she called back. "Castle."

He came, even though, God, she'd treated him awful; he came and touched her shoulder and she pushed James into his arms and pressed down the boy's hair where it had mussed from her handling.

"Kate?"

"I need to walk. I'm sorry. Please just - I need to get out of here."

"Okay. Of course." His head turned, James held easily in his arms, and she started to move, but Castle called out sharply. "Sasha. Now. With Kate."

And then the dog was her ghostly, if perhaps reluctant, companion.

She knew better than to refuse.

* * *

"Should someone... go after her?" Hunt spoke up.

"No," Castle snarled, bit it back with a sigh. Tried again. "No, Colin, definitely not."

Hunt didn't look happy with that, but hell, _no one_ was happy. Fuck. James was unsettled now too - Kate's theatre had made that worse - and now he struggled in Castle's arms a little, grunting to get down or go after his mother.

"You should know better by now, too," he murmured into James's ear. "Give her a chance to get it together. She doesn't like to break apart in front of people. Even us."

James strained, but Castle kept him close, walking slowly back to the middle of the living room where Logan was already setting up his equipment on the coffee table. Jim was paying attention, which Castle felt grateful for - someone else should know how to do this - but Hunt was staring at the back hallway like he could see through it to the back door and the path to the cliffs.

"I can go after her," Hunt said then. "I'll talk to her." He standing up now.

Castle stepped into him, James in one arm, and he pressed his hand into Colin's chest. "Sit down, Hunt."

"She's upset. She didn't want to do that to him; she was against it, but you made her."

"If it'd been to save _my_ life in the balance here, she'd have been the one holding him down. She'd have kept her perspective; she'd have gotten this over with weeks ago."

"You're an asshole. You practically made her cry, and now you're acting like she just needs to toughen up."

"You don't know her," Castle snapped. Immediately he relented, got it under control, lowered hsis voice. "You don't know how it is for her. She feels responsible; she knows she's made it worse - her own issues made it worse. She's not looking for outside reinforcement; she needs to do this alone."

"Outside reinforcement. You're a fucking cold bastard, you know? Just like him."

"Right, because I want my wife to be strong on her own, to stand up without my help - that makes me a cold bastard?"

"What do you think John Black did to us?" Hunt snarled, pushing in. "Isn't that how he made you? Sink or swim, Ricky."

"You don't know me; you don't know her. You think you're in love with her and it makes you hurt to see her not get her way. Well, guess what? That's not love. Love is doing the hard thing even when it hurts. She has to figure this out - alone - because that's who she is. You chase after her, you make it worse."

"Who the fuck died and made you-"

"Her mother died," Jim said, cutting coldly into their argument.

Castle sucked in a breath and gripped James, eyes darting over to her father. He had stood up now as well, but he remained before his chair, not moving.

Jim placed his hands carefully on top of the chair. "Her mother died, and I drank myself near to death, and we cut out every leg she had to stand on. We chopped her off at the knees. So she's like this. She has to do it alone, and Castle is right. It will rip your heart out, but if you go out there and try to drag her back before she's ready, you'll make it worse. You'll rip _her_ heart out. Leave her alone. Just. Leave her alone."

Colin Hunt was breathing hard, like he'd lost a race he'd pushed himself flat out for, a race he'd neglected to do the training for and now was suffering.

Castle didn't fucking care; he didn't care when Hunt stormed out of the house and walked back to the cottage, and he didn't care even when the room took on that drained and empty feeling that came after an argument.

He didn't care. He turned back to Jim, James somehow quiet and subdued in his arms now. "Jim."

Her father sank back to his chair, wiped a hand down his face.

"Jim. You're right, but you're wrong."

He sat down on the couch, glanced to Logan and even though the guy was good at making himself invisible, a fly on the wall, quietly concocting the infusion, he jerked his chin towards the kitchen. Some space. Logan gathered it up and relocated.

"Jim, I need you to look at me."

Her father chuckled dryly and finally turned hollow, empty eyes on Castle.

"It's not that," Rick said clearly. "It's not because you abandoned her, or because I did - and you know I have. I let her think I was dead, Jim. It's not that. It's who she is. It's how she copes. And I said all that because this is how we work it out in therapy, not because she's broken."

Jim rubbed his hand down his face, but he stalled out at his eyes, kept his hand covering them.

"She's not broken," Castle insisted, "or if she is, we're broken all together, right? She's not broken. This is just life. We work it out."

"I know, son," Jim said finally. "I know."

Castle took a breath, slowly rubbing James's back. He needed to get the kid a bottle of juice, replenish his sugars. But Jim first. "She made it worse - she's _making_ it worse - because she's got this idea in her head that she's got to be enough, got to be perfect or right, whatever that means."

"Whatever that means," Jim echoed.

"She had an idea of what this was supposed to look like, and it wasn't this. Was it? That's on me, the whole damn regimen, but instead she takes it on her. And so now she thinks of it like a failure, a personal failure - she can't be enough to even recover from the thing she did to herself."

"She had to," Jim muttered.

Castle laughed, an ache in his chest. "Yeah, you and I both know that. She had to for James. But to her - another thing she failed to do, to provide, for us. So-"

"She'll get there," Jim said, face rising from his hands. "She'll get there; she'll figure it out and-"

"I know," Castle said easily. "I know she will. Or she'll always have this thing, this ache, and that's good with me too, Jim. You know? Because the ache means we're alive."

Her father drew in a long and crooked breath, like it took him such effort to get it done, like air itself was working against him. "Yeah. I know now. Used to - try to escape it as much as I could. But I know."

"I never felt like this before Kate," Castle said. "Never had the chance to feel - anything. Even when she cuts me up, it's good because it's there; bleeding means I bleed. _I'm_ built that way, I guess. I love her. It won't change."

"Thank God for you," Jim rasped. "You don't know how..."

"I know," he said, sober. "And when she gets back from - wherever in her head she's at - she'll know it too. You don't have to worry about Kate when she's with me."

And there was Jim's first honest smile, cracking the weathered, worn-in grief of his face. "Yeah - that I do know. I'm not worried. Why I told off Colin Hunt."

Jim stood and came to them on the couch, cupped James's head and patted it. Castle watched him move back towards his own bedroom, and then Castle stood too, heading for the kitchen and Logan and the infusion that would make this all a lot better.

James's cheek was dusting the top of his shoulder, his body heavy as tiredness overtook him. And no, it didn't feel great, putting needles in his son. But give James twenty years and he would make the same choice himself, to save his mother, to give back what he'd unwittingly stolen.

It was okay; it was going to be fine.

"Let's get you some juice," he murmured into the top of his son's head. "You'll feel better once you've had a bottle. And Mom will be back, and she'll want to hold you and let you nap on top of her, I'm sure. Our brave boy. You did good today. I'm proud of you."

* * *

Kate leaned over, hands on her knees, gulping fast to get air in her lungs, sea air, clean and salty and sun-drenched. She heaved in another breath and dug her toes in the sand to keep from shifting as the waves dragged at her.

What was she doing down here, running on the beach like she was being chased? Fuck, she was losing it.

She _had_ lost it; she was tired, pushed out beyond her control. Obviously, she needed something, _something_ to get her over the plateau she'd hit the last few weeks in her recovery. She'd been so close to normal when Colin Hunt had shown up in the park that day, and then they'd gone through hell, and she had been ground down to nothing.

She was worn down. She felt every hour here like a rock she carried, piled inexorably higher, grinding and shifting and rubbing her raw. She had nothing left; she couldn't carry it.

Sasha barked and came running up the beach, splashing water. She'd gotten to be a wild thing these last few days, her fur had grown out, clumped with mud and seaweed and knotted with salt. She rarely came to them, followed James only when he was outside, didn't like to come through the doors; she had morphed into a wolf.

Kate had done something similar, hadn't she? Become a wild thing, unused to people, unwilling to be inside the walls. Letting herself go to the wolves.

Kate dragged her feet through the sand to the sea grass spotting the shore, sank her back against the cliffs. She was still breathing hard; she'd barely run a mile.

She was fucking weak.

She wasn't enough; she had failed them.

She knew these were lies, to some degree or another; she knew that her physical endurance had nothing to do with her ability to be a good mother, a partner to her husband. She knew what they had wouldn't be damaged or broken by her poor health.

She just didn't want to be like this; she was fucking tired of being tired. She wanted only to run the beach with her dog, carry her son down the island path, make love with her husband and not be fucking winded, not need to sit down.

"Damn it," she growled.

She'd made her son miserable, hadn't she? She'd made it worse, her own damn issues. James had been fine. If he'd been sick, if they were taking samples of his blood for something to do with the regimen - or even just _Castle_ \- then she'd have been the first one to volunteer him.

What a fucking hypocrite.

Sasha came running to her, spraying sea and sand with her speed, salt getting in Kate's eyes. She grunted and wiped the corner of her t-shirt over her face, reached out and ran her fingers through Sasha's fur.

"Oh, wolf," she sighed. "We should've reined you in, huh?"

Sasha wriggled out from under Kate's hand and went bounding off.

"At least that's one of us," she murmured.

Kate closed her eyes.

Had to face them all, had to fucking get it over with. Apologize.

"Kate."

Her head jerked up, body struggling to straighten. She let out a breath. "Rick."

He came down the last few feet of the cliff path and the sand shifted so that he slid to a stop beside her, a quick breath of laughter. "Hey."

"Shit," she muttered, pressing her hand over her face.

He bumped her shoulder with his and she couldn't help the groan that deflated her chest.

"Not that bad," he said, chuckling a little.

"It is. It is that bad. I'm a fucking-"

"Gorgeous, intense, stubborn woman," he interrupted, another bump of his shoulder. "And I'm smitten."

"Smitten, huh?"

"Completely."

"Your loss."

A kind of vicious punch to her shoulder that made her yelp, squinting her eyes against the sun as she looked at him.

"My fucking _loss_?" he said. "That's my wife you're bashing. And I'm sick of hearing it. You measure yourself by the most fucking ridiculous standards, Kate, and yet you let the rest of us get away with shitty-"

"I'm sorry," she rushed out. "I'm sorry."

He went silent, and she gulped down another breath of that crisp, clean air but it didn't seem to do her any good.

Castle wrapped his arm around her shoulder and dragged her down into him, pressing his chin to the top of her head. She fought to stay, to not shrug him off and slink away like the wolf.

"I'm sorry," she said again, wishing she meant it the way she wanted to mean it.

He didn't say anything to that - he probably knew better - and she finally stopped struggling with herself. She just sat with him, watching the ocean waves come in and be dragged out again, always another wave to take its place, scouring the beach clean.

Her footprints were long gone. The wolf was bounding back up the trail towards the birch forest, leaving them to it.

"James okay?" she said then.

"Yup."

"Did he get juice or-"

"I gave him a bottle. Taken care of."

She felt like shit.

His fingers played at the sleeve of her t-shirt. "Logan's almost finished with the infusion. Be better soon."

"Hopefully."

"Your enthusiasm is underwhelming."

She laughed, completely involuntarily, and she knew he was smiling, the insufferable-

"I had an idea." Castle scraped a fingernail against her arm and she shivered.

"Yeah?" she murmured.

"James was awake when I left, drinking his juice, but I bet he'd really like to take a nap. You could - you know - hold him, cuddle him, baby him while the IV-"

"Shut up," she muttered, sinking into his side.

Castle brushed his lips against her temple, stopped talking. His fingers slipped under the collar of her shirt, dusted the slope of her shoulder, inching her shirt down. "Quickie on the beach?"

"I hate you," she snorted, elbowing him off even as she turned and slid into his lap.

Castle was grinning as she hooked her arms around his neck. He planted his hands on her hips and slipped in under her shirt, stroking her ribs now. "You do, huh?"

"Hmm."

"Heavy makeout session on the beach?"

"We'll see," she hummed, leaning in to find his mouth.

At the last second, right before their kiss connected, his honesty rubbed against her lips. "I love you. Love _you_ , Kate. As you are."


	6. Chapter 6

**Close Encounters 28**

* * *

Back at the house, Kate glanced over at Logan and he met her eyes easily, not commenting. She chewed on the inside of her cheek and sighed, letting it go. He was too, apparently.

"You've always managed to be front and center for some of my worst moments," she muttered.

"Lucky that way."

She shook her head and then glanced up as Castle brought James by the hand into the room. They had set up on the couch for this, and at least it wasn't being stuck in bed with the needle in her arm.

"Hey, look, JP. There's Mommy."

James was chewing on the end of his bottle - a sippy cup really, only Castle thought 'sippy' was a stupid word and wouldn't use it. She held out her hand to her son and he rocked on his toes, let go of his father's hand, and came running for her. She gathered him to her side, kissing his cheeks.

"Hey, my little wolf. Is Daddy call you a jungle parasite again?"

James lifted his bottle and chucked it towards her lap, which Kate managed to catch at the last second, a laugh spilling out of her lips. She sucked in a breath when Logan pierced the inside of her elbow with the IV line, glanced over at him.

He raised an eyebrow and she nodded; it was fine.

James was crawling into her lap after his bottle, fisting her shirt as he settled with her. She kissed his cheek and leaned back against the couch, cradling him with one arm as Logan taped the IV down.

"Did you tell Daddy you're not his little tapeworm?"

"Bot fly," Castle said, sinking onto the couch with them. "He's our bot fly."

"You guys are so weird," Logan chuckled. "Aren't they, Echo?" He leaned in and rubbed the top of James's head, winking at them. "You're all set, Kate. An hour. Four off, then another hour's worth."

"How much did you make?" she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "You stuck his thighs."

"All the same really. Faster there, that's all. When we used the soles of his feet, I had to keep massaging-"

"Don't worry about it," Castle cut in, a glance to Logan that Kate already knew the meaning of. It had gone a lot worse before. "Kate, he made enough for a full infusion-"

"That's too much-" she gasped, glancing down at her poor little boy, how he wilted against her.

"It's what you need," Castle insisted.

"But James shouldn't have to-"

"Kate," Logan interrupted, laying his hand on her shoulder. "Listen. Say we'd only gotten enough for one round, two rounds maybe? You'd have gotten a boost for a few days, felt pretty good for at least a week, maybe two. And then you'd start pushing it a little more, wearing yourself out, and within that two week period, you'd be back to this again. And we'd be taking another donation from your son."

She clenched her jaw, cupped the back of James's head. He'd abandoned the bottle, had merely curled his arm around it and laid his cheek at her shoulder, snuggling in. Squishy. Tired.

"But this way, we give you a full infusion, six rounds over a 24-hour period, a concentrated push to get you over the hump. And then we don't have to do this again. You have what your body needs to rebuild itself without exhausting your reserves. One and done."

"I understand," she said tightly, brushing her lips against the sweat-curled hair at James's temple. He mumbled and rubbed his face into her shirt, dropped down to lay at her chest. She cuddled him, breathing in the scent of his skin, the ever-present ocean. She wondered how long that would last once they got back to New York.

"Kate?"

"I'm okay," she told Logan, lifting her IV-d hand to curl around his arm, a squeeze of reassurance. "I've been pretty ungracious, Logan. Thank you for this."

Just then, James gave a big, stuttering sigh, fell asleep against her shoulder. Kate smiled against the top of his head, shared her smile with Logan. He winked back, patted her knee, and stood up again.

At her side, Castle shifted to put his arm around her, drawing her back against him. She tilted her head into his shoulder and slowly brought her IV arm into her body, her fingers unfurling against James's round thigh.

He was okay. He was tired, but yesterday had been a long day too. He was warm, his fingers were tangled in her hair, and he was asleep - already recovering.

She closed her eyes, thought maybe she should join him. A nap sounded like heaven.

Castle dipped his mouth close to her ear, nuzzling until he said, "Not too long. Want you both to sleep tonight."

She couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

Castle rubbed his fingers over James's back, watching the responding flicker of eyelids or lips as the baby slept, dreamed. Kate wasn't quite asleep; he thought she was in and out, skimming the surface of sleep. James was wiped. Castle was afraid he'd have to wake the boy soon, just so he'd sleep tonight. Couldn't go back to days and nights being switched.

Two warm bodies pressed against his, the relief of having his family close. Castle - if he hadn't been augmented by the regimen - could probably have fallen asleep as well, safe as the panic room out here, their little island.

He pressed his thumb into the material of the boy's t-shirt, something soft and cotton, the blue of the sky. His son was completely relaxed against Kate, the ultimate trust of abandonment. Nothing could happen to him while his mother held him, a belief so intrinsic and essential, and look how easily it came to James. How simple a thing it was to love, to trust.

And with Kate, who wouldn't? But Castle saw every day now, every little thing, just how much had been taken from himself, stolen, his early years made unreliable and unpredictable by his father, his childhood crushed by the machinery of his father's program. His core self, his essence, had been warped by the dearth of moments like this.

He'd had no mother he could trust with total abandon, no father to model the liberty found in love. But James had those things, James got them, and no matter what events came, how many times the boy might need to have blood drawn or to be shaken awake so he slept at night, the foundation _now_ of them, their family, their love - that would put everything to right.

He shouldn't let Kate sleep for long either.

Castle checked the time on the stove from his spot on the couch, sighed to himself. After all that work and suffering of staying awake yesterday, he hated to ruin it now. He lifted his hand from his son's back and stroked the edge of Kate's cheek with the backs of his fingers.

She stirred, rousing to his touch.

"Kate, honey," he murmured, "time to get up."

Her lips parted but she didn't wake. He turned his nose into her temple, nudged his scratchy cheek against the smooth plane of her face. She twitched and jerked, but he had the baby contained; he wouldn't let her drop him.

"Hey. You 'wake?"

She made a muffled noises against his chest, yawned. "What time?"

"Nearly eleven."

"Hell."

"Best if you got up though."

"I know," she muttered, turning her chin down to the top of James's head. Her arms circled the baby a little tighter as she shifted, her body becoming taut with awareness, no longer sleep-slack. "Yeah, time to get up, JP."

"See? You call him jungle parasite too."

She smiled at him over the top of James's head, shifted to sit up. "I do. And wolf. And Jay. Or James Beckett, which is one of yours - your scolding."

He grunted, shaking his head at her, but James was beginning to wake now, called forth from oblivion the second Kate had said _James Beckett._ Maybe he did use it to scold.

"Yeah, hey there," Kate murmured to the baby. "We both gotta wake, I know. Mean daddy."

"Hey, now."

"Telling it like it is," she said, chuckling as she sat forward with James in her arms. She was trying to peel him off her chest, his body that perfect fetal curl, his sweat-damp cheek sticking to her skin. She laughed and Castle had to help, his hands cradling the boy's head while she fixed her shirt and slowly pulled out the IV.

"James," he called. "Hey. Come on. I'm sorry but you can sleep after lunch, promise. We'll get some more juice too. Want some?"

He held James away, preventing the boy from snuggling back down, and after a moment, James's eyes came back open and he stared up at them, uncomprehending.

"I know. It's so cruel," Kate laughed, leaning on Castle's shoulder, draped at his back as she watched the boy. "We're so mean. But you'll thank us later, when you can sleep, and you're not cranky tomorrow when Uncle Colin has to leave."

James blinked and then his mouth split wide with a yawn.

"Look at that. He says he couldn't care less that Uncle Colin is leaving," Castle grinned. He dropped his face close and rubbed noses with his son. "That's my boy."

* * *

Castle forcing her to stay awake all day should have helped. The infusion's full dose should have helped. And she really was exhausted, so much that she fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow - despite the lurking excitement of tomorrow's leave-taking. Their little island group would be split up, and that meant she and Castle were that much closer to leaving themselves.

But instead of a full night's rest, she woke from a strange confluence of nightmares, as if two or three of the worst ones had teamed up on her. The men on fire in the house in Copenhagen had morphed into burning bodies running through the woods in New York, everything they touched going up in flame, their anguished screams echoing. When she had tried to run, she was chasing Castle in the Congo, and lightning struck, and there had suddenly been rain, and a flash flood had crashed over them, sweeping Castle back, away from her, and into the hungry flames.

She had woken to his screams.

But he was asleep in the bed, sleeping deeply on his stomach, his face mashed into the pillow so that he reminded her of James. Must be somewhere in the middle of his miserly four hours. His regimen-enhanced four hours.

She let out a breath and tried to control the still-mad thump of her heart, but she felt suffocated by the bedsheets, and the night, and the dream. Kate slid her legs out of bed and stumbled upright, swayed as her knees refused to lock for a moment. When she had her bearings, she headed for the bathroom.

Her t-shirt was sticking to her, her pajama shorts creased with sweat. She yanked everything off and ran cool water in the basin, splashed it over her face, trailed wet fingers at the back of her neck. When the chill of the night permeated her dream-drenched body, she began to shiver and look for clean clothes.

She found Castle's ubiquitous black t-shirt and a pair of loose plaid pajama pants that had been his - but cheaply made, bought in a supermarket if she remembered right, and they had shrunk so much that they barely hit her ankles. She tied the waist and rubbed her hands down her arms, but stopped short at the end of the bed. Staring at her empty side and the rumpled sheets only made her want to run.

So she did.

Kate didn't bother with shoes; it wasn't that kind of running. She was aware enough to know that if she went for a run in the middle of the night, she'd spend the next morning exhausted and short-tempered, after being exhausted and short-tempered all day, and the day before, trying to stay up just to keep that from happening.

Instead of going for a jog, she let herself set out.

She nudged open the door to the baby's room, peeked in on him, asleep on his back with both arms up, elephant tossed on the floor. Sasha no longer slept in the house, and Kate missed seeing her shadow under the crib, keeping watching at night. Kate moved softly inside, picked up elephant, and placed it gently in the corner for James to find when he woke.

She closed his door nearly all the way, and she left the house.

She didn't know where she was going, only that the moon was full and her legs restless and her head still being jerked around by images. The nightmare sweat dried quickly on her back and neck, the creases of her thighs as she walked, and the grass against her bare feet was cool.

She found herself walking in the meadow between the farmhouse and the caretaker's cottage, wandering. The dew clung to the cuffs of the pajama pants, so she bent over and rolled them up to her knees, let her calves be kissed by the long blades of grass. In the white-grey moonlight, she could see the wild flowers that still bloomed, even this late in the summer, the black eyes of the yellow buds, the white lace on those tall, regal stems, and the delicate violet that James liked to pick and pile in her lap in the morning.

She came sideways up to the cottage, not looking at it, but her restlessness was mirrored, she knew, by the man inside.

Wanting to be gone.

Kate glanced up, her fingers caught by a trailing vine blooming too far from the trellis, and she saw his light was on, and not only that, but he was standing in the window watching her. She sighed and turned her back on him, putting her face towards the path.

But she couldn't go back to bed and meet the fire waiting for her in dreams. And if she laid down beside Castle and stayed awake, it would almost be worse, and she would wake him in her need, and Castle needed his four hours. He had to have at least that.

She heard the tapping on the glass, and she turned, and Colin was opening the window with a crank so that the horrible screech echoed through the night and made the foxes yip and call from the beach below.

Kate stayed where she was, waiting until Colin Hunt stuck his head out, and then she wished she hadn't.

He was grinning, leaning one hip against the sill, and he nodded towards the dock - and the boat beyond. "You haring off?"

"No," she said. "Walking off a dream."

"A racy one, no doubt. I'd say I'd meet you in dreams, but I'd much rather meet you here."

Kate rolled her eyes.

"Should I come out? We could lie in the meadow and-"

"No, Colin," she sighed. "Stick your head back inside." _Inside y_ _our ass_ , she thought to herself. Nightmares never made her charitable. His smarminess didn't help.

"Can't sleep either," he said with a shrug. And then his eyes twinkled. "For thinking about you."

"I'm sure," she muttered. She moved to go, but he had suddenly leaned over the casement and snatched her by the wrist. "What the hell?"

"Come here, Kate."

She wavered only a moment, but it was long enough for him to forcibly haul her into range. She'd paused to consider which self-defense move to make - if she would break his elbow or his wrist (and would that make his story look good or worse to the Collective when he arrived?) - but the pause had been her downfall.

He was too close, and the moonlight was playing tricks on him, and the sleeplessness and exhaustion were pushing her desperation too close to the surface.

And maybe he thought that desperation was _for_ him rather than about him, because he touched his mouth against hers.

He tried, anyway. He tried to kiss her.

Kate flipped her wrist and twisted his arm around, shoved him roughly away from her. His head smacked the window casement and he groaned, staggering, his hand going to the back of his skull with a wince. "Bloody hell."

"I hope it is bleeding," she growled. "You deserve it."

Her lips felt strange, and she unconsciously rubbed the heel of her hand against her mouth.

"Well, that's encouraging," Hunt scowled. "Can't wipe it off, Kate."

"And you can't push yourself off on women, _Colin_. Especially not ones you're related to."

"We're not related, darling. We're-"

"No," she snapped. She was standing barefoot in the grass outside the cottage, for goodness sake. What the hell?

Colin touched his head again and winced as he pulled his fingers down. No blood, but he was having trouble standing upright, kept knocking his shoulder against the window, and she was afraid she'd made his concussion worse.

No, not _her_. Him. He'd done it to himself.

Kate sighed. "Give me a second. I'm coming in." She had a moment's thought for going in the window, and then she banished it entirely - they had security measures that made that idea stupid, and she moved around the side of the house for the front door. She opened it onto the kitchen but the man sitting at the table wasn't startled - at all. He just gave her a look.

"I might have damaged him," she told the security agent. "I want to be sure he's not concussed."

The team member's lips quirked; she knew then that he had probably heard, and maybe even seen everything.

Kate moved down the hall to Hunt's room and opened the door. Colin was leaning far out the window, hissing her name, but he spun around in confusion at her entry.

"Oh. You're in my bedroom," he said, sounding stunned.

"Sit down," she muttered. He sank down against the window, and she figured that was better than the bed.

Kate moved close enough to study his eyes, and she held up a finger. "Track," she demanded, and he did, and she thought it was fine. No lag. Focusing. "You're not brain damaged at least."

"Kate," he said softly.

She shifted her gaze to encompass the whole of him, and she realized he was lifting his hands to her waist, his eyes dazed even though not concussed. Kate caught his fingers, gently, and stepped back.

"No," she said, carefully. Clearly.

His eyes slammed shut and his head bowed. He shook off her touch and scrubbed both hands down his face with a growl - and in that moment, he looked the splitting image of her husband.

And she hurt for him. "Colin," she started, feeling too lame for the conversation but she had to. "Hey, I'm-"

"Don't say flattered," he growled.

She sighed. "I wasn't. Because I'm not flattered. You just make me feel bad-"

" _God_."

"Bad for _you_." She frowned. That didn't really cover it, but she felt like it had gone on long enough, the unsaid stuff, and even if she and Castle were doing this on purpose with Colin, she had to _say_ something. "Can I tell you a story?"

He glanced up. "What?"

"You should probably go back to bed," she told him, "so think of it like a bedtime story."

One eyebrow raised.

She shrugged. "I'm pretty good at it," she lied. "James adores my stories." Another lie. James liked her to sing to him, and Castle was the one who told their stories. But that wasn't for Colin to know. "So lie down before you fall down."

He opened his mouth and she knew already the comment that would come out - smarmy and charming in equal degrees, much like Castle himself - but she shoved on his shoulder and pushed him towards the bed.

She stayed where she was by the window and sat in the chair. Hunt rolled his eyes but he winced and sat down on the bed, putting his back to the headboard. Good enough.

"This is my story," she said, starting it badly, she knew. "There was a time when I was obsessed, and I let one event overshadow my whole life. It made me razor sharp, but it made my insides - dull."

"What are you even-"

"Shut up and listen. Please."

Hunt sighed, but she saw that his hands were in fists on the bed, like he was trying to gear himself up to say something to her.

She desperately did not want him to say it. She had to say this first.

"I was angry and explosive and very damn good at my job. Scary good. But everything inside was blank. That obsession had eaten it all up, so that it was - it was a hungry mouth, and I was just raw. And then one day I met Castle."

"I don't want to hear this."

"Or he met me," she kept going, ignoring him. "And - well - that's the end. Colin, I am obsessively, desperately in love with him. All that hungry and terrible part of me - raw - scary - all of that somehow lifted its feral head at the scent of him and ran. Ran straight to him. I never did that before. I usually went clear the other direction. As I think you've discovered. I usually am so confounded by the attraction, the spark, that it's like a foreign language I can't begin to speak... I think I'm mixing metaphors. I don't know. I lied. I'm terrible at stories."

Hunt huffed. "I couldn't tell."

"The story goes like this. I fell in love with him the moment he kidnapped me from the road. And life isn't supposed to work like that - _love_ isn't supposed to work like that - but for a very long time, my life didn't work at all. And love wasn't real. So maybe that's what it took, and it took a man like him doing it - but what happened is that all the wildness in me, all those ragged edges and desperate seeking and chaos of me - found center. And then once I had that center, it channeled me and funneled me in the right places. Center is us. Me and Castle. Having this man in my life _made_ my life, put things to right."

Hunt wouldn't look at her. She wasn't sure it was coming through. She was terrible at this but it kept spilling out now.

"I'm desperately, woundedly, viciously, wildly in love with him. To hurt him would be carving out my heart. To go anywhere else would be death. Anything you see in me that is good or right or lovable comes because of the center I have in that love. In Castle and me together."

Kate let out a long breath and stood up. Hunt didn't answer her, but she wasn't even looking at him. She wanted only the door, and the path back to their house, and her husband asleep in their bed.

It was done. She had said it, given the truth, and now it was done.

She was suddenly and inexplicably exhausted, and she knew she would sleep like the dead.


	7. Chapter 7

**Close Encounters 28**

* * *

"I made eggs, if you want," he told her, carrying James through the living room. They greeted Kate at the threshold of the hall. "Give Mommy a kiss."

James leaned out and Kate did the kissing, cupping the baby's cheeks and smacking his lips with her own. James blinked his dark lashes and then crashed back into Castle's chest, hiding his face with that shy smile.

Kate rubbed his back and moved past them, and Castle turned and followed even as James squirmed in his arms. The morning sunlight came through the windows and lit the empty rooms, and Kate seemed bewildered.

"Tired," she said, seeing his face as he passed her.

"Eggs? Or I can make you something else," he answered. "Waffles - use up the last of the mix."

"Actually. Yeah?"

"Yeah," he agreed easily. "James would kiss you again for that choice."

Kate smiled, though it was faint, and she settled on the stool pulled up to the bar. "Thanks. James want to sit with me while Daddy makes us waffles?"

Castle glanced down but James seemed uninterested, chewing on his fingers with his forehead braced at Castle's collarbone. "Hey, kid. Sit up. Mommy's talking to you."

He jostled the boy and James startled upright, swinging out a little so that Castle had to catch him before he over-balanced. He settled James instead on the top of the counter, pointed at Kate.

"Get Mommy."

James crawled off, giving Kate a tooth-gapped smile, and she laughed this time and opened her arms to him, cuddling him on the counter. Castle turned back to the pantry and found the waffle mix, measured out the powder and milk while he vaguely listened to Kate tease James.

He pulled the waffle-maker out from the cabinet and set it up, spraying the grooves of the waffle iron with nonstick cooking spray. The mix was easy, and he kind of hated it, but Kate said she couldn't tell the difference between this and the stuff he did from scratch. He hoped she was just being nice.

He added cinnamon and a little vanilla to it, and then he opened the freezer and rooted around until he found the pureed bananas. James had been unwilling to eat his usual enhanced bananas for breakfast, and they'd gotten overly warm sitting out. He could put some in the mix and give it to the kid on the sly.

"Hey, Kate? I'm gonna make one of these slices with James's bananas."

James grunted and Kate laughed. "Oh, wolf. You can't possibly know what Daddy is doing. What a face. Castle, look at this."

He turned around and saw James scowling fiercely at him. "Whoa, wolf. I see you growling at me. You gotta eat your protein kid. Eggs ain't enough."

"Really?" Kate said softly.

Castle shrugged. "I - well, honestly, Kate, we haven't been willing to experiment with his diet, you know? So if Boyd says he ought to eat these special bananas, then I'm gonna damn well make sure he eats them."

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "You're right. It might be smart to - no, not experiment - but we need reasons why, don't you think? Just - our next goal probably should be making sure that we know why James needs what he needs."

 _And does what he does_ , Castle thought. But Kate was already looking ahead to the next worry - the regimen and the balance of proteins and everything else for James - and Castle couldn't possibly add the rather nebulous idea of - of whatever it was James was doing.

At least not yet. What did it matter if James felt things? So long as he was growing and strong and happy, able to love, then Castle was pretty sure it mattered not at all.

"Make our waffles, Rick," she said then. James was chewing on a teething ring from the circle of her arms. Happy. Loving. Just fine. "Just don't give me those damn bananas."

"Mixing separate batches, love."

"You hear that, JP?" Kate was rubbing her nose against James's. "Daddy is making you your very own waffles. Because he loves us both so much. Yeah, exactly."

He couldn't see James's face, but he could imagine the smile he had - the one he always had when Kate got close and talked only to him. Castle knew that feeling really well.

* * *

Castle settled James on his feet in the front yard, the grass so high it came to the boy's waist. They had let the back meadow grow up wild, the path to the cottage being the only thing they tended, but Castle had meant to crop the yard up here, especially since it lead down to the dock and the cliffside beach.

Sasha loped through the grass and came running for them, a swishing sound in the air as her body cut through, and James clapped his hands at her approach. Castle glanced over his shoulder at Kate who was perched on one round stone of the pathway leading up to the front door.

Kate smiled back at him, twirling a purple flower between her fingers, her elbows on her drawn up knees. "Hey, guys. Watching you."

Castle turned back and saw that James was looking at his mother as well, and at hearing her voice, he wriggled happily and launched himself right at Sasha. Castle let the boy go free, and Sasha went down to her belly, allowing James to drape over her back.

The baby patted Sasha's back and made those grunt-growl noises that tickled Jim so much when he'd heard them - the boy imitating the dog for his language. It was rather cute, how James wanted to talk to his dog. Castle decided to join them, coming down to his stomach as well, his elbows propping him up in the grass, and he petted Sasha too.

"What do you think?" he said conversationally. To either of them.

"Sh-sh," the boy tried to say, not quite getting it. James patted a little harder but Sasha only gave a wide yawn with her pink tongue, turned her head back to lick the side of James's face.

The baby chuckled, his old man laugh, and Castle smiled back at them. "Yeah, you guys are cute. Sasha, such a good girl. Thanks for coming around."

The dog had grown a little wild. Her coat was knotted and dirty, and he realized they'd let her have the run of the island. She kept disappearing into the birch trees, but every time James came outside and clapped his hands, the dog came running again.

"Dada."

"Oh, hey there, wolf. Calling me?" He grinned, moving his hand from Sasha's head to pet James's instead. The baby laughed again and dropped back down to the dog's back, twirling his fingers in the long fur near her belly.

And then James got a leaf and he jerked his head up, surprised, and the leaf tangled in the fur seemed to captivate the boy's attention. Castle reached out and tried to help him release the leaf, James's dexterity rather impressive but not at all close to what was needed.

"You got good concentration skills though, wolf." James glanced up to Castle and gave him the _more_ field sign. _More, more, more_. Over and over. Castle grabbed his little hand and kissed it. "What more? Help you get these leaves off?"

Castle made the field sign for _aid_ , figured that was as close as they'd get to _help_. It was supposed to be a signal for first aid, but he thought that was the same kind of thing.

"Help. Can you say help?"

Castle repeated the hand gesture, which was a modified version of _move out_ or _mount up_ depending on which field signal book the soldier was going by - ground forces or air control. Most of what they used in the CIA's black ops groups were modified, of course, because of the need for more subtle cues. The ground crew of a Navy aircraft carrier were going to be using wide motions of their arms so a pilot could see them on the flight deck, but a small, four-man team on radio silence weren't able to flap their arms around.

James, however, did some arm flapping.

Castle laughed. "Good try. That's help. You need help getting all the leaves off Sasha?"

He finally untangled the detritus and held it up to James. The boy clapped, his movement causing him to slide off Sasha's side. Now free, and apparently not too thrilled about being groomed, the wolf jumped up and bounded off.

"Oh, so sorry, Jay. But look, we can pick Mommy more flowers."

James pushed up on his hands and rocked back towards his bottom, and then he crawled towards Castle. He used his father's shoulder to pull himself to his feet but he hunched over Castle now, draping himself on Castle's back.

Castle grinned, lifting one arm to give the kid an awkward hug behind him. "Thanks, James Beckett. You're squishy today, huh?"

He wiggled James a little on his back and the boy popped his head up, patted Castle on the shoulder before he laid back down, hugging on him.

Castle wasn't sure if James was trying to wrestle or if this was just some kind of snuggle thing. He'd been a lot more squishy since he started teething, so it was possible that he had another tooth coming in. Meant he might be fussy tonight.

"Bet you're getting a tooth," he said softly. "You think so? We'll have to check."

Suddenly James lifted his head, peered forward, his fists in Castle's shirt.

Castle heard it too, the rustle in the grass, and he went very still. James, ever receptive, did the same - freezing, his body as rigid as Castle's.

"Shh," Castle said softly. James ducked his head back down to Castle, and he could feel the boy's chin in his shoulder, his cheek at the back of Castle's head. "Good boy."

And then he saw them - three little foxes, tails high as they came bounding through the grass. One lifted a nose and scented the wind, but it seemed the perfect opportunity for his brother to pounce on his back, and the distracted fox yipped, spinning around hard. The third one stayed well out of it, but he seemed just as playful, jumping high and diving back down in the grass only to come up once more yards away.

"Foxes," Castle breathed softly. He turned his head only minimally, and caught sight of his son, the boy equal parts bewildered and fascinated. Castle nudged his nose into James's cheek. "Fox."

James hunkered down close, apparently knowing that any untoward movement would scare the three away. Castle didn't have a sign for fox, or anything that might come close, but it didn't seem to matter. James wasn't interested in naming the thing, only in watching it with rapt attention.

Did James feel them there?

The boy had noticed the animals before Castle had, now that he thought about it, but what kind of emotional wake could three little foxes be leaving? James had a kinship with the dog, but Sasha was a member of the family. Sasha had belly-crawled across the kitchen with him, she had licked his face clean of breakfast and been his crutch as he learned to walk. She had been the one to put her muzzle on James's belly when he'd been a newborn, guarding the baby as he slept or keeping watch as he nursed.

Castle expected kinship there, pack mates. But could that same sensation be stirred by some energetic, playful foxes? Did the size of an animal's brain matter, did emotional maturity? Could James feel the Ryan's little girl, Sarah Grace, when she came over to visit with her parents, or did a connection have to be there, some kind of daily exposure?

James gave a soft little sound, wonder and surprise, and Castle knew it didn't matter. It might be nice to know, but until James started talking to them - and understanding and ordering his own world - Castle would have to be content with moments like this, sharing them with his son.

He moved very slowly and gave James a soft nudge. "Score one for Mommy, huh? She said don't hurt the foxes."

* * *

"No napping," a voice came.

Kate jerked awake and found Castle's face in her own, his amusement spilling in his eyes. He was stroking the hair back from her face.

"Not napping," she mumbled. "Resting my eyes."

"Uh-huh," he murmured softly. His kiss touched her eyelids, and she sighed in defeat. Castle sat down on the bed and put his hand on her hip, rubbing through the thin material of her shirt. "You get any sleep last night? I figured all day like that should've knocked you out."

"I had bad dreams," she admitted, struggling to sit up. She had sneaked off while Castle had played with James in the front yard, the two of them low to the ground and watching the foxes. She had gone inside with the excuse of keeping Sasha away from the foxes and ruining Castle and James's fun, but now the dog was nowhere in sight.

She'd probably gone out the back door the moment she could.

"Bad dreams? I'm sorry," Castle said. "You okay? Maybe you should nap."

"No," she said, snagging his hand. "You're right. Stay awake and sleep tonight."

"Were bad dreams keeping you awake before?"

She shook her head and leaned in, pulling her knees up to her chest and laying her head on his shoulder. She felt bone-deep weary. Everyone was leaving and she wanted to be on that damn boat, not left behind again.

Left behind with her _husband and son._ This was where she belonged, and she knew it, and she felt guilty for wanting more when clearly she wasn't ready for more. The infusion had helped, and she'd have another dose - the last - tonight, but she was restless to get back to her old life.

Castle's hand came gingerly to her nape, cupped at her skull. "Kate? What's wrong, love?"

"Just let me stay right here."

"Long as you want," he promised. Everything he said was a promise. Everything.

She let her eyes close again, but she hoped being upright would keep her from drifting off again. "James?"

"With your dad. About ready to assemble the troops for lunch."

"I'm almost ready."

"Take your time," he said easily. His fingers combed through her hair. "You want to talk to me about it?"

"I talked to Colin," she groaned.

Castle laughed, and Kate lifted her head, feeling miserable, but he was chuckling. "Talking to Colin was your nightmare?"

She laughed back, helplessly, and shook her head. "Well, yes, actually, it was kind of a nightmare. I just - I wanted to walk last night and shake it off-"

"Shake it off," he whispered, half-humming that stupid ringtone she'd put on his phone.

But it did the trick. She laughed again and the world was brighter, the day was sunny and streaming in through the windows, and she was leaning against her husband who loved her beyond all reason or comprehension.

"Sit with me," she said, pulling away and scooting back against the headboard. "Give me a hug while I tell you."

Castle laughed at that, but he crawled up to the headboard and opened his arms to her and they settled in together, her body snug against his, one of her knees pulled up over his thigh. He stroked her shoulder and she inhaled the scent of him worn into his shirt, and it was easy.

"I walked out through the meadow behind the house, trying to fill myself up with all those beautiful things - the things you gave me when you brought us here, my gift - the flowers and James and the foxes on the beach and the memories we've made here. It made me feel better."

"At least I could do that, big dumb idiot that I was, asleep when you needed me."

"No," she murmured, lifting her fingers to touch his lips. "Never. I just wanted to-"

"Go."

She nodded. "And then I looked up and I was at the cottage and Hunt was at the window. He opened it and we were talking - he was being a smartass and I was pissed because I was _trying_ to settle myself down - and then he grabbed my wrist and tried to kiss me."

Castle stiffened.

She curled her arm around his bicep and shifted practically on top of him. "Rick."

He finally looked at her, his jaw flexing.

"I know," she said softly. "So I had to say something. We're _doing_ this to him, but I had to make it clear where he stood. Which - which is not even standing at all." He was angry, but she thought it was at their whole situation, and not - hopefully - entirely at Hunt.

They had, after all, been fostering it. Using it to prep Colin to go back.

"Well, anyway when I shoved him, he smacked his head on the window, so I came around inside and-"

"He smacked his head?" Castle growled. "Well, that's better."

She flicked his ear. "I made sure he wasn't concussed, and then I made him sit down and I told him - I told him that I was love in with you. And that it wasn't the kind of 'in love' that fades or falls apart but that it was my whole life. And it crushed him. But I think it - think it helped."

Castle rubbed his hand up her back and hugged her against him. "I'm sorry," he said then. "I'm sorry you had to." His lips brushed her temple. "Not sorry you're in love with me."

"Me either." She sighed and laid her head on his chest. "I'm just glad it's nearly done."

* * *

Lunch that day was ruled by the tyranny of leaving, every man for himself. A fast meal, they ate practically on their feet, moving from the kitchen to the bar stools or table, getting another helping or pouring a drink for themselves. James was getting underfoot, threading between their legs and wriggling his body into the spaces between people. Kate was standing with a hip propped against the counter, a hand out to catch the boy when he came for her.

They were all talking about leaving, about the world outside the island, and for the first time in weeks, Castle didn't have that sick panic in his guts at the thought of it.

"You'll have to turn up," Kate was saying. Colin nodded his head at her and stepped away from the fridge to let Reese get inside. "They don't expect you, but the story will stick."

Castle observed from his place at the bar, Jim Beckett moving around Colin, Reese grabbing the loaf of bread, another of their security agents coming inside for a bottle of water, a third eating peanut butter spread on crackers over the sink. Movement, constant movement, and the team out there still on duty and waiting their chance at lunch.

Reese was making a remark to Colin, Kate smirked with a lift of her eyebrow. Her cheeks had color again, and Castle realized he hadn't noticed when she'd lost it, so often were they outside where the natural light made them all look healthy.

James came barreling around the corner, chased by Mack, the usual security agent at the dock. Mack grabbed James and had him squirming, and then he set the boy down on his feet and tossed a salute over his shoulder, heading back outside again. James followed at his feet with Sasha not far behind, but Mack gently put the kid off, shut the door in his face.

James wilted.

"Hey, wolf. Get over here," Castle called to him. His son perked up almost instantly, just like Sasha too, both of them turning their heads and then bounding his direction, Sasha reaching him first and threading through his legs.

Castle leaned over and rubbed her behind the ears, reached out to cup the back of James's head as he pressed himself to his father. James stepped on his feet and wriggled closer, getting between Castle and the bar, the dog with him, both of them competing for the space.

"What're you doing?" Castle laughed, lifting his knee to push his son into the wall, pinning him. James gasped and chuckled, eyes darting up to meet his father's, his hands gripping Castle's knee.

"Poor guy. You're trapped," Reese said, coming to stand beside him with his own sandwich made.

"You'll never get free," Castle grinned, nudging with his knee so that the little body bumped the wall. "Try and escape."

James giggled and squirmed against his shin, dropping low to wriggle, Sasha ducking under Castle's lifted thigh. Reese laughed and put his elbows on the bar, digging into his sandwich.

"Reese, how's the boat looking?"

"Good to go. We had to do some light maintenance in Nantucket before we got back, but it was smooth on the ride out here."

"Gas?"

"Plenty now."

"You'll take Colin to the mainland yourself," Castle said. "Turn around and come back for us here. We'll be leaving at the end of the week."

"I figured."

"You got enough gas for a trip like that?"

"Enough," Reese nodded.

James finally broke through during Castle's distraction, ran from him and into the kitchen. Castle saw Kate get jolted, and then her face lit with that slow smile as she bent over and said something to James.

He turned back to Reese. "Take one of the men with you, Reese. One of the outliers."

"One Colin Hunt hasn't seen?" Reese said, his tone good-natured but serious.

"That's right," Castle said. "I don't know if it can be done, but keep it from him. Keep the man quiet, have him disembark and follow Hunt."

"I know just the guy."

"He'll have to be your best," Castle warned. "Hunt has played this game for a long time."

"I've seen him. Have you?" Reese said suddenly. "When we first got here, Hunt sliding off to do a perimeter check, always roaming the place. He found the first station in about two minutes and we had to work fast to dismantle the second before he got there."

"Yeah, I got that report," Castle muttered.

"I got a man who can move," Reese said. "But Hunt is a deceiver. He's used to checking his blind spots."

"Make sure your man stays in the blinds. You get me? This has to work. I cannot rely on Colin Hunt alone when it comes to the Collective."

"I know," Reese said, not even glancing across the kitchen, not betraying a thing. "I got a man. You don't want some tech on Hunt?"

"He'd find it. Ruin the whole experiment," Castle said easily. He was, partly, trusting Hunt to be what he said he'd be, to be their man on the inside. Bugging him was a bad idea, especially when sooner or later, _someone_ would find the technology. Best case scenario, Hunt would know he hadn't been trusted and he'd be furious, worst case scenario, he was branded an enemy spy and killed where he stood.

"All right. It'll be Rivera," Reese said quietly. "I'll get him myself right now, install him inside the boat."

"Rivera doesn't have to report in like usual. Only if it's outside the scope of our understanding."

"I got it. I'll tell him."

"I _do_ want to know the first contact Hunt makes, whoever it is, wherever it is. This guy is a fox, and I want to know all his holes."

"Yes, sir," Reese said, a grim little smile. They had all been dealing with the foxes on the island; they knew how quick and cunning and destructive they could be. "I'll go now."

"Eat your lunch first, Reese."

"Yes, sir," Reese answered, but he was on the move. He took his sandwich with him and left the kitchen, stranding Castle alone at the bar.

And then James came running around the corner and launched himself at Castle's knees, clinging to his shorts and trying to climb up.

So Castle leaned over and picked him up, kissing a cheek made sticky by banana and strawberries. "Everything's good," he murmured to the boy. "Between the two of us, wolf, we got it covered."


	8. Chapter 8

**Close Encounters 28**

* * *

"I've got to find Sasha. Start getting her tamed."

He kissed Kate at the door, the leash in one hand and James in his arms. She patted his chest. "Good luck."

Yeah. No kidding. The wolf had been allowed to run wild these last few weeks, and now she'd forgotten she had ever been a dog. It made Castle think that the wolf in her was quite a lot more than they'd suspected, despite the vet's assurances.

"Sasha," he called from the path. On one side was the thick stand of birch trees that was the dense center of the island, and on the other was the meandering path down to the bay. They were still between the house and cottage, with the cliffside beach behind him. The dock where the boat put in was between the two beaches, on the most prominent point of the island.

The dog was nowhere in sight, but Castle had a trick for that.

On the front lawn, he set James down on his feet, releasing the boy's hand entirely. Castle had been trying not to carry James, allowing him to build up his endurance on the sand. His balance was impressive these days, but he still hated to walk on the beach. The sandy, grassy knolls around the house and cottage seemed not to bother him.

James cast a glance behind him, as if checking in with Castle, and then ran for the trees. Castle followed at a more deliberate pace, not surprised when Sasha came slinking out of the birches to meet James. The two of them had some instinctive connection, for sure.

"Hey, Sash," he murmured, approaching the two wolves with his palm out. Sasha allowed herself to be petted, and Castle kept it light, no sudden movements.

James, however, laid his cheek against the dog's head and draped himself down Sasha's back, baby talk humming in his chest. Sasha wriggled once as if shedding her wolf skin, turned her head and nipped at James's shirt.

Castle froze, but Sasha was just that good. James's red shirt caught in her teeth but nothing more, and the boy only chuckled and squeezed harder. Looked like this was an often-played game between them. Sasha licked along James's elbow and arm where she could reach and then turned her head to Castle as if to say, _what can you do?_

"All right, good girl," he murmured. He petted the dog between the ears and smoothed down the fringe of fur that had gone wild around her head. "You need a bath too. And a shave, I think. Matted."

Sasha gave a sliver of a growl, a little thing that rippled down her back and made James lift his head. The boy clutched handfuls of fur and got a hand on Sasha's muzzle.

Castle moved to intercept, but Sasha's growl turned into a whine and she licked James's fingers, snaking her tongue around her clamped tight teeth, barely opening her jaw for it.

"Good girl," Castle sighed. He never worried about Sasha, but it was in these moments where he felt the wolf in her that he wondered if James's approach might one day be too much for their dog.

He clipped on her leash without problem, though, and James gave Sasha a couple of hard pats to the back, shushing her, his way of calling her name.

"Come on, wolf. And wolf. Let's go get a bath."

* * *

Kate found Colin Hunt alone at the cliff side beach, his bare feet in the sand, shoes dangling from two fingers. She had James with her while Castle bathed the dog; she hadn't been expecting Colin down here, and now it was too late to go back. James had been promised the sand to divert his attention from the dog.

She set her son on his feet and he churned sand trying to rush off, fell to his hands and knees and stayed that way, content to push the sand into hills. She straightened up and saw that Colin had turned to look at them.

"You're leaving soon," she said, as if he needed reminding.

"I am."

She wasn't going to force him into conversation. She was tired of the ways they'd tiptoed around each other, making collisions all the more painful. She'd always thought that having someone love you should be a gift, unlooked for maybe, but a joy to know. This wasn't joy.

She nudged her bare toe into James's bottom; he flashed her a shy smile and ducked his head back to his sand mountains. He was going to be filthy by the time they made it back up to the house. Sandy and tired but happy. That was important.

"You look better. Blood stuff worked, I guess."

She glanced up from her son playing at her feet, saw that Colin had dropped his shoes in the sand and sank down on top of them. He had his arms hooked around his knees, but he wasn't staring at the water. He was staring at her.

"I'm better," she admitted, lowering herself to the sand beside her son. There was so much sky. The blue ached. The sunlight was a broad smear of bright white across most of the horizon.

"And he's fine. James."

At the sound of his name, her son looked up at her, guileless and waiting, a handful of sand clutched in one fist. She reached out and stroked her fingers over the dark hair beginning to hang in his eyes. Needed a trim. His first haircut.

"He's fine," she said finally, looking beyond her son to Hunt. "I don't like it, but it's life."

"So damn true," he muttered, shaking his head.

Was this going to be their last conversation? All the things that didn't get said. She couldn't say _I'm sorry_ because she wasn't actually sorry. Maybe for him, but that was pity and he would despise it from her. She wasn't sorry she didn't love him back, because she loved Rick Castle and it was - everything. She wasn't sorry Colin had stayed with them on the island, wasn't sorry they'd saved his life or he'd returned the favor. Everything that had happened had been good, necessary even.

"Look," he started. He planted his hands in the sand at either side of him. Like he needed support. "I need to say it. I just need it out there, the flattest way I know. I love you. I do. I know it's no good. Don't say anything. Don't answer me. Just know that I do."

Kate kept her mouth closed, but icy needles pierced her chest despite the sunshine on her face.

Colin had his head bowed to his clasped knees.

James startled and brought up a black seashell, showing it to her with radiant surprise. Broken at one end, grimy with wet sand, but clearly a treasure. She reached out and took it from him, smiling through the numb ache. "Oh, thank you, love. I'll keep it forever."

Colin sucked in a breath she could _feel_ over the roar of the ocean against the tiny strip of sand. The cliff side beach was dangerous and powerful, the currents strong. She never took James here but she had today. Maybe she really had known.

Colin got to his feet and dusted the sand off his shorts, picked up his shoes. She watched him go back up the steep path along the cliff, the weight of her son's black shell in her hand.

When Hunt was gone, she looked down at the gift, carefully brushed the sand from its grooves, dug dried seaweed from the hollow bowl. James crawled over to her and in her lap, watching her work at it. When it was nominally clean, she saw it had a pink sheen to it that had been hidden by the sand. Almost like a pearl.

* * *

Castle loaded the last of the bags into the storage locker beneath the cabin seat, closed the lid on it. The cushions formed a near-seamless joint over the wood, obscuring any trace of the cargo below. It was a beautifully made boat; he was proud of it, even if he'd spent very little time on it.

There was Reese, the driver, and a man hidden. Plus Colin Hunt. Those were her only passengers this trip, and then the driver and Reese would come back for himself and Kate, James and Jim. They'd put in at the mainland harbor, a carefully chosen spot and _not_ the same as where they were dropping Hunt.

"Thanks, Castle."

He turned and found Colin Hunt standing in the open doorway of the main cabin. Castle straightened up and came to the man, offered his hand.

Colin stared at it half a heartbeat and then finally shook hands, nodding slowly. "What you told me that first day. Or - I don't know, probably wasn't the first day. I was out of it. But you gave me what-for."

Castle nodded, waiting for Hunt to say whatever the man felt like he had to say. He could take it; he didn't even mind it.

"Thank you."

Castle blinked. _That_ hadn't been what he was expecting.

"Seriously, big brother," Hunt muttered, fist coming out and smacking Castle's shoulder. "Don't look at me like that. I bloody well-"

"No, right. Of course. You're welcome." Castle let out the laugh that had caught sharply in his throat. What was this? Pity? Something else, something fraternal maybe?

Fucking hell. Castle did _not_ need to start feeling for the man.

"I'm out of your way now, at least," Hunt said, hands on his hips as he surveyed the cabin. "I've already said my good-byes. I won't prolong it."

"Colin," Castle sighed. "You were never in my way to begin with."

Hunt flinched, and Castle realized how that sounded to a man in love with his brother's wife. Impossible. Desultory. Dismissive.

But what else was there? Fuck, he was gonna have to-

Castle gripped Hunt's shoulder and hauled him in for a fast embrace. Pounded his back with a palm, pushed him away with a fist in the man's chest.

Brother.

"Fuck." Castle wiped his hand down his face, shook his head as if he could dislodge the feeling.

Colin looked ready to do battle, spoiling for a fight, his face thunderous and churned up. John Black had done a fucking number on them both, hadn't he? Abandon one, tyrannize the other. Grass was always greener.

"Fuck," Castle sighed. "Just - don't be stupid. Kate would absolutely be wrecked if something happened to you, you know. And I - hell. I don't want her hurt, but more than that. More than that, you're in this family now. My son has an uncle. Fucking hell, man. You're my kid's _family._ "

Hunt lifted his eyes, and Castle finally saw it - what he'd wanted to see all along, had been trying to cultivate this whole time.

Investment.

Colin Hunt was invested in this.

"I, uh, yeah," Hunt scratched out. His eyes flicked away and back again. His kicked dog expression had gone, Castle saw now; it had been missing when the man had stepped onto the boat.

 _I said my goodbyes._

Meaning Kate. Well. Good. If it had put some fucking steel back in Colin Hunt's spine, then good. Whatever the hell he'd done, whatever goodbye had encompassed, that was - not exactly fine but necessary. Necessary. Colin Hunt had to waltz back into the belly of the beast like he fucking owned the place, and he needed all the steel he could get.

They were sending him back to the Collective.

Castle reached out and gripped Hunt's hand again, squeezing hard. "I'm damn serious, Colin. Do _not_ be stupid." He swallowed past the lingering mistrust and reached into his pocket. Ten minutes ago, he hadn't thought he was going to do this.

He pulled out the black felt-tip he kept for marking the tides against the dock - a project to keep the caretaker busy while Reese and Jim had taken out the boat. He reached for Hunt's wrist, but the man stepped back.

"What are you doing?" Hunt said.

"Give me your hand."

"What are you-"

Castle grabbed and hauled Hunt into him, opened the man's palm to his pen. He wrote two names, two addresses, keeping Hunt's fingers pried open until the ink was dry.

"You wash your hands, and this will be gone," Castle said. "So fucking memorize it. These two. These are your contacts if all else goes to hell."

Hunt's face washed out.

Castle ignored it. "If there's even a hint of you not pulling this off, you fucking bail."

"I'm not some green agent. I can do this-"

"It's not about you. It's about Kate," he said grimly, a line he'd used so many damn times now it was starting to sound trite. "Something happens to you-"

"Bloody hell," Hunt muttered.

"These two names. Mitchell. Mason. You know Mitch," he went on. Fuck, was he really doing this? "Mason is CIA. _Not_ in the loop. But fucking excellent at extraction. If you're blown, and it's bad, Mason. You go here." Castle tapped Hunt's palm. "Don't fuck around. You go here."

"Mason," Hunt repeated, studying his hand. Hopefully memorizing it. "Czech?"

"No. But yes."

"You're blowing a CIA cover of one of your _best_?" Hunt said, staring at Castle.

"Yes."

Hunt closed his eyes, opened them again with all that emotion completely closed off, shut down.

And _that_ was what Castle had wanted to see. The man in fucking control of himself once more.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and he punched Hunt in the shoulder as he moved out of the cabin. He didn't say another word, he just left the British agent alone.

* * *

"Sasha is inside," he told her.

She nodded, swaying with James in the living room, not speaking in case the boy woke again. Almost, almost fast asleep.

"She doesn't like it," Castle warned quietly. "She might drive us crazy all night trying to get out."

Kate lifted a hand from James's back and pointed at the baby in her arms.

Castle's face lit with her idea and he nodded. "Got it. Put her in his room, smart. She'll behave." He turned and headed back for the kitchen, calling softly to the wolf-dog as he did.

Kate put her hand back over James, rubbing softly. She dipped her lips to the top of his head, loving the smell of him, the weight of him in her arms.

Colin was gone; the boat had left while Kate had been giving James a bath, washing the sand out of every little crevice. When she'd carried James out to his bedroom for clean clothes, she had seen the boat leaving the dock from the window.

Just like that it was over.

Or really, just begun.

Kate sighed and rubbed her lips over James's sweet skin. Time for bed. They'd played all afternoon in the strange, quiet emptiness, despite the fact that the island was still stationed with most of their security team but for two. James had wrestled with his daddy on the living room floor, giggling at the game as Castle had pretended to be knocked down. It had been sweet, a special time, but now that she thought about it - it could have been any of their days, any moment.

Castle liked to be _with_ his family. He'd always been down on the floor with James as a newborn, seeing what James had seen, and then recently, running after the boy as he chased down Sasha or sitting him in the high chair and talking to him as he made dinner. All of that _before_ they'd hidden away on their island. The free time, the down time they'd had here had only emphasized Castle's natural inclinations.

He loved his son, wanted him around. And Kate thought that was really beautiful.

Special. He was a good man, she'd known that all along, but he was such a good father. Joyful about it, really, even goofy. He made himself a fool for James and the boy responded. Their time here had been wonderful.

But time for bed. Time for bed.

Kate walked slowly down the hall for the boy's room, heard Castle tugging Sasha by the collar towards them. She turned in the doorway and saw the poor wolf trying to resist, that low whine in her throat - but she wouldn't say no to Castle.

Kate moved inside the room with James, rubbing his back as he sighed in his sleep. Dinner had been easy, quiet, kind of lonely with just the three of them - her father had gone out walking, had a later meal. James had eaten leftover fruit salad, some spaghetti, the bread he loved. She'd forgotten just how self-contained he was, how much he observed and watched and didn't _need_. He just didn't demand a whole lot, and with the usual crowd of people at their table now absent, James's solemness had been so apparent.

But he wasn't unhappy, he wasn't sad or morose or moody. He was just - _James._

She lowered him to the crib, finally releasing him to sleep. He mewled something and rolled over on his belly, his breathing evening out as he sank deeper into sleep. She tugged his blanket up over him and smoothed elephant down under James's chin. He was holding it tightly.

Behind her, Castle gave Sasha a stern word of command, and when she turned to leave, the dog was slinking to the crib and settling down, mournful eyes on them. She needed to be tamed though; she had to be ready when they returned to New York. She had to be the dog who could live with just that scrap of a back yard and leashed in the park.

Castle followed her out, his hand on her back as they moved, without speaking, to their own room. She mechanically took her earrings out, slipped them into the little travel box where she kept her jewelry - items she'd had on her when they'd left. She unclasped the necklace - she'd been wearing his thumbprint under her shirt for so long now, she didn't know what it was like to not wear it.

Her wedding ring. Kate watched the stone flare blue in its grey depths.

"Colin said good-bye. Said he loved me," she said. All at once, for no reason except she had to. "I..."

Castle touched her shoulder and she turned into him. His arms were warm, undemanding. One of hands rose and combed through her loose hair, collected it off her neck so he could put his palm there, cradling her.

"He's in love with me," she said, her mouth at his jaw like her words were endearments. But they weren't. "He loves me and I'm using it against him, using it selfishly. So selfishly. Sending him out there to - to what could be his death."

"It's not you doing the sending, Kate. It's me."

They hadn't talked about this, not so blatantly. She hadn't wanted to, hadn't known what to say. Not when she faced her _husband_ with a thing like this, another man in love with her, with them because _she_ had insisted on it, she had taken him home with her.

"It's me too," she said finally. "He loves me and I've let him."

"But I showed him how," Castle sighed. "I showed him how."

She brought her arms around his torso and clung to him, breathing fast, not wanting to feel so much, hating how it stuck in her soul like a burr.

"I showed him how, Kate, because _I_ love you. I do. Me."

Some of his jealousy showed through, like the original paint showing through the whitewash of this past month. Jealous for her, of her. He had bought her an island - a secluded place, a private place - because he wanted her to himself. Hadn't he? She'd seen it in him before, had battled it in the beginning but so half-heartedly because in the end, in the end, she wanted him just the same. All to herself.

She drew her arms in and ran her hands up his chest, cupped his jaw so that their foreheads tilted together. They shared this responsibility, this weight of love, between them, just like this.

Colin Hunt was going back to the Collective to save her life.

She touched her lips to Castle's cheek, wanting him to hear her. "And I let him, I let him, Castle, because I love _you_."

* * *

The next day, as Castle scrounged up items for lunch, he decided that dinner would be a strange combination of things pulled from the freezer. Everyone would have milk to use up the last of it. Now he checked the canned goods and left them on the pantry shelves for the next time they made it to their island.

Kate had James on the couch with her while Jim brought out presents he'd picked up over the last few weeks. He'd been waiting until Colin had left to bring them out. Castle put the finishing touches on lunch - a stir fry concoction - and dished it out into bowls for them.

With the pan still sizzling in the sink, Castle placed their bowls on the coffee table and went back for their cups. He shut off the water and scraped the dish with the scrub brush, left it to collect their drinks. The fridge was emptying out, sure enough, and it made him a little sad.

He didn't want to go. Well, no. He _did_ want to go, now was the time, but the bare fridge and the massive laundry they were cleaning to fold and pack away, and the furniture covered in the rooms not in use... it was depressing.

James chortled from the living room, and Castle looked up to see his son standing on the cushions with his head peeking over the back of the couch. Watching him.

"Hey, JP," he called, bringing their drinks with him as he came. "What're you doing?"

"He thinks I'm a jungle gym," Kate said with a laugh. James was standing on her thigh, bouncing a little, something in his hand. "Dad got him a new toy. A wolf. See?"

She nudged James's hand and the boy lifted his arm as if to show it off. A chunky black toy with yellow-gold markings, robotic, fierce.

Jim winced. "Hope you don't mind. It's kinda bristling with weapons. I wasn't thinking."

"Why would we mind?" Castle said, glancing at the toy again.

"Dad's worried it's too violent," Kate murmured at him, a tug on his pant leg as he passed.

"Too _violent._ Right _._ What exactly is that thing?" Castle chuckled. He deposited their drinks on the coffee table and then realized he'd forgotten utensils. "Hang on, I gotta get silverware. James, buddy, what've you got there?"

James barked. Like a wolf-dog. Sasha, from the back bedroom, barked in response and came running down the hallway.

"Oh, my God," Kate cracked up, laughing hard as Sasha joined them in the living room.

Castle shook his head and just collected their forks. He came back, nudging his knees into Sasha's body to move her. He sank down on the couch between Jim and James, handing out utensils to his wife and her father. "Hey, _wolf_ , you could call out for your dog, you know."

James gave him a shy grin and ducked his head into Castle's side. Kate took his fork from him, freeing up his hands, and Castle gathered James into his lap.

"Hey, show me your robot wolf thing here." He wriggled the toy in James's clutch until the boy released it. "Yeah, wow. Looks like Papa knows what's cool. How great is this, huh?"

James wriggled down into him and reached for his toy, taking it back into his arms, cradling it against his chest. Kate was already eating, her bowl tucked under her chin. He grinned, nudging her.

"Good?"

"Yeah, good," she said, nodding around another mouthful.

"After I bought it, I was afraid it would be too much." Jim gathered his bowl and fork, but he was sitting carefully. Like it was some kind of touchy subject.

"I don't get it," Castle said finally. "It's a robot wolf. With - okay, yeah." He twisted the wolf thing in James's hand and saw the spikes and cannon and the guns. "It's seriously armored. That's badass, right, buddy?"

Jim chuckled. "Well, yes, you say badass in front of him. What was I thinking?"

Castle lifted his head to look at her father, surprised, and then he glanced over at Kate for explanation.

She was smiling, lips pressed together, the bowl in her lap now. She lifted her hand and laid her arm on his shoulder, caressed the back of his neck with her fingers. "Dad forgot who we are, babe."

"He did? Seems kinda impossible a thing to forget."

Kate grinned, but he was hypnotized by her touch. He might have to close his eyes; her fingers at his neck were alluring. "Rick, honey. You're cute. I think a lot of regular parents don't give their kids violent toys, and Dad was worried that we were normal."

Castle grinned back. "We ain't normal, Beckett." He shot a glance to her father. "Papa Beckett."

Jim shook his head, but he was smiling too. "All right. I've been told. I won't worry about it." He stood up and took his bowl with him. "I'm going to add some cashews from the pantry. Glad you don't mind the robot wolf."

He moved to the kitchen, still chuckling, leaving them to the couch.

"No point in worrying. This kid is already doomed, genetics-wise," Castle muttered.

Kate twisted his ear.

He yelped and James lifted his head, clutching his robot wolf, looking back and forth between them. "Mama?"

"Daddy is being morose," Kate said, leaning in to kiss James's cheek. The robot wolf came up and nearly smacked her in the cheek, but Castle caught his wrist.

"Careful, buddy. This one is hard plastic, not stuffed." He curled James's arm back down to his chest and nudged Kate. "Not morose - I'm not sad. Just being real."

"You paint a dour picture for our son," she muttered, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Dour," he echoed. "I just don't see the point in worrying about whether or not his toys have guns when his parents are spies. I mean, _you said_ you didn't want to lie to him about who we are. That he wouldn't be the cover. A badass robot wolf doesn't change the basic nature of his family life, does it? We love him and that has to be enough."

"I did say that," she smiled. "It's enough, Rick. You're very right." She leaned in and touched a kiss to his jaw, her fingers smoothing his stinging ear. "We love. It's everything."


	9. Chapter 9

**Close Encounters 28**

* * *

"Yes, sir," he said. "We plan on being back in the Office soon."

The Director grunted. "How soon is soon?"

"By next week."

"And Beckett is good for that?"

Castle glanced out over the lawn and came down the path towards the beach, phone against his ear. "Yes, sir. She's a hundred percent."

He could see them in the water of the bay.

"Well, good. Fine. That's good. We have something developing in South America that I might need you for."

"Sir, I don't-"

"You will for this."

Castle rubbed his forehead. "We'll see."

"I'll read you in when you get back to the Office."

Then it wasn't an emergency. Castle cleared his throat, took a breath of the sharp summer air. The wind was blowing and it ruffled his hair as he went down the boardwalk. "Beckett and I will call you when we report for duty."

"I'll be sure the doors unlock for you."

He gave a tight chuckle, but he wasn't sure the Director was kidding. The call ended just like that and he was left alone with the breeze stirring off the water.

Castle pocketed his phone and came down the last of the boardwalk steps and onto the beach. The bay was rough out there today, a storm coming in, but Kate had James in the water, the two of them bobbing with the waves.

He stood on the shore and watched them, the way James beamed at his mother after every great wave, his lashes dripping while she held him up out of the water. He had some rudimentary swimming skills, apparently could hold his breath they had discovered (by accident, of course), and they usually let him get dunked a few times.

James liked to kick hard and wear himself out on days they got to swim, which might be why the boy had gotten his days and nights confused. He slept hard, had begun taking two naps - one in the morning and one after lunch - and then that had melted into two or three naps and waking at six, seven, eight - unable to get back to sleep. Hopefully they'd broken them of that, James and Kate both.

Kate looked good. Two days of infusions, and she looked herself again. It was sobering just how bad off she'd been before, how bad they both had let it get, trying not to hit up their son for help. Castle had been reluctant only because they just didn't know, when it came down to it, what it was about James's blood that helped. He was augmented too, he had that special DNA, and Castle wanted Kate as far away from serum by-products as she could be.

But it was no use, he saw that. It was no use trying to separate them out. She was linked to James and James to him, genetically. Her basic _chemistry_ had changed being pregnant with their son, and it was having its affect even now.

Castle lifted his hand to his bare chest, the tattoo he could feel sometimes like welts raised on his skin. He thought, some nights when it was dark and he was awake for good, he thought that the regimen was fighting the ink, trying to subsume it back into his body, destroy it, eat it up.

But the tattoo remained. Sometimes like this, a slightly raised impression where the lines were boldest, so that he could read his own tragedy blind.

"Say, _Hi, Daddy_!"

Castle roused, blinking in the sun as Kate called to him. James waved his hand as Kate carried him through waist-high water, the two of them like seals rising from the ocean. He came to meet them with the surf licking lightly over his feet, and Kate leaned in, a wet hand at his neck and a salty kiss.

"Hey there," she said, leaning back as James tried to topple to the ground.

"You taste good," he sighed, taking James from her and letting the boy soak his chest, soothe the wolf tattooed over his heart.

"I taste like sunscreen, I'm sure," she laughed. "You want to take him or-?"

"I'll keep him, but are you going somewhere?"

"Thirsty. Run up for some drinks. You want anything?"

So alive. She was just so alive. Already jogging towards the path in just that black one-piece, the bikini bottoms askew where James had dug his toes into her side.

"Rick?"

He took a breath, let her see his grin and his lust both. "Naw, I'm good. James and I will hang out till you get back."

She blew him a kiss, winking as she turned back around, a flash of golden skin and sleek, dark hair, disappearing over the dunes.

"Mama."

"Yeah," he croaked, nodding like an idiot. He patted James's back and tore his eyes from the place where she'd been, headed woodenly for the edge of the water. He sank down on his haunches and settled James on his feet in the sand, pulling himself back together.

"Mama." A little self-satisfied, her name out of their son's mouth, like he was pleased he'd invented her. Castle ducked the boy's head with a heavy hand and pushed the hair out of his eyes, wet and salty.

"Yeah, your mom's awesome, isn't she?"

James turned his head back around, mouth opening in a round 'o'. He lifted a hand and opened his fingers, closed them, something like a wave, or _gimme gimme_.

"She's coming back."

James grunted and squatted down at his side, a little mimic of his father.

Castle tilted his head and watched the boy watching him, and then he sank back onto his ass in the sand, the water swirling up and soaking his swimming trunks. James did the same, sitting down, a self-satisfied sound as he copied his father.

Huh.

"You having fun with Mom?" he asked.

James mumbled something, the tone the same, but the pitch his own. Words, of course, weren't quite there.

"Don't be too hard on her," he warned the kid. "I know she looks really good, and she probably feels pretty strong. But it's only been a few days, and she shouldn't push it."

James grunted.

"I know. She's gonna push it anyway. You're right."

He sighed and James sighed too, and then the boy gasped as water reached up to his belly button and tugged on him, sand disappearing out from under his bottom.

Castle chuckled, reaching out a hand to keep him steady, keep him on the shore as the wave receded.

James chuckled too, but he stood up, pushing off the sand and toddling a little unsteadily next to Castle. He put a small, sandy hand on Castle's shoulder, using his father for balance.

"That's better, huh?" Castle murmured. "So let's talk about you, wolf. I've been preoccupied with your mom, and you and I haven't checked in lately."

He reached up and snagged the kid by the back of his trunks as another wave came in, this one strong enough to have swept him off his feet. They were playing with fire a little bit here, but James didn't back away.

Fearless.

"You still the little feedback loop?" Castle said quietly. "James. You feeling everything?"

James lifted a hand and opened his fingers; sand fell in wet clumps from his palm. He twisted his wrist to rid himself of sand, but it still clung. He seemed oblivious to his father's questions.

Castle's eyes caught on a dark shell in the wet sand nearby. He focused on its image, the real sensation of it right there, concentrating, but James didn't budge, didn't go looking for the thing in his father's mind.

Well. Who knew. Pretty crazy anyway. Colin Hunt had said things, but Castle didn't believe them for a second. Not really.

He just wondered.

"Mama?" James turned his whole body around and leaned against Castle's chest, put a foot on his thigh and climbed. Castle caught him, smiling, and James started to bounce, babbling for Kate, looking back over Castle's shoulder.

A weird sensation traveled down his spine and Castle turned around, James twisting in his arms so he could see too, but she wasn't there. Not on the rise of dunes, nowhere in sight.

He stood up, feet primed on the sand, a moment of indecision. Did it even mean anything at all?

James was easy, relaxed in his arms, clapping his hands together now and laughing.

And in that moment, Kate came into view, a water bottle in two fingers, hair just beginning to dry in the wind and sun.

"Mama," James said with relish, as if he had conjured her up himself.

Maybe he had.

* * *

Castle stood at the top of the cliffs and watched his wife below. She had claimed a strip of sand between the crumble of falling rocks and the hungry waves that would be underwater when the tide came in.

She had maybe forty minutes left before that happened. She seemed to be making the most of it.

When he'd seen her heading down this direction, he had left Jim with the baby monitor while James napped, and he'd come down after her, slyly, wondering what she was up to every day this week. Every day since Colin had left, naptime rolled around and Kate came to the cliffside.

So today, he had too.

She had started with yoga, her bare feet planted in the sand, her running shorts a brilliant shock of neon green. She wore only a sports bra and exercise shirt; from here, he could see the streak of white on the back of her neck where the sunblock hadn't been rubbed in. Sweat stained a christmas tree up her back, her hair fell in her eyes whenever the wind blew off the ocean.

She had moved from yoga to pilates, working her abdominal muscles, strengthening her core.

He was surprised she hadn't yet asked him to spar. That's how much work she must have been putting into this, every day this week, down here on the beach conditioning herself. More than that, she must have been doing this all month, various times, Castle somehow unaware, too focused on redeeming Colin Hunt.

He realized now that she wouldn't ask him. She wasn't going to ask for him to spar with her when he was admittedly on the edge about her health.

But spying on her now, he knew she could handle it. He could see it in every line of her body. She had muscle definition, she had tone and balance and form. She didn't waver. She'd been exhausting herself doing this, but now that the infusion had taken hold, she was strong.

So Castle started down the path to meet her.

At the break in the cliffs where natural erosion had created a fissure, Castle paused again to watch her. Kate had stopped as well, as if resting, taking a moment, and she was facing the ocean, watching the waves come in with her hands on her hips.

Castle kept silent as he made his way down the scree, but something about the arrogance in her frame as she stared at the sea, something about the haughty tilt to her chin and the defiance in her eyes made him want her.

Want to take her.

He let his foot twist on the last of the rocks so that the noise reached her, and the moment she began to turn to look, he took off across the sand.

For an instant, incomprehension blanked her face, and then the second after that she yelped and went into a defensive posture, sinking back on her heels with her forearms up.

But it was too late. Castle tackled her around the waist and drove her back, her bare feet churning the wet sand. She gasped at his grip, but her knee came up and landed just off his solar plexus.

Good hit. Close enough - if he were anyone else.

But he wasn't anyone else. He was super, and he was still breathing, had barely felt it. She grunted in frustration and tried to catch herself, but Castle drove her down, intending to put her on her back.

Kate planted her knee in the sand and used his momentum against him, torquing her shoulder so that he rolled over her. Castle managed to catch her thigh as he went down, and she collapsed on top of him, the breath rushing out of her.

"What the fuck-?" she gasped.

"You've gotten slow," he grinned up at her.

Kate narrowed her eyes and kneed him hard, bringing her elbow down into his ribs at the same time. He curled defensively - an automatic thing - and she twisted out of his arms and hopped back up.

Castle rolled to his feet to meet her again, but before he could gain his balance, she lashed out.

Beckett's kick glanced across his hip; she was holding back.

He caught her foot and jerked, but she only came in close, hooked her leg around his waist, jumped him.

Castle hadn't been expecting that. He grunted and rocked back, his balance faltering as she latched on to him, and he went down. Beckett jerked into his fall, pushing him to his back with his own force.

He hit the sand with a growl, teeth rattling. Castle opened his eyes.

Kate was perched on his chest, knees in the sand on either side of his ribs, her hands planted on his chest, nostrils flaring in triumph.

Oh, no, baby. Not yet.

Castle reached up, cupped the back of her head in something like tenderness, and then he flipped them, driving her onto her back in the sand.

And suddenly water swirled around her head. She gasped, eyes widening, arching up into his body with a gasp.

The tide was coming in.

He rocked his hips back down into her, and the swirl of surf under her body made her writhe upwards, clinging to him. He growled to feel her body below him, strong and taut, vibrating with exertion, the cold shock of water.

"Good thing we're not enemies," she panted, tightening her arms around his neck.

"Why's that?" he grinned. He breathed deeper so that his ribs expanded out into hers.

She growled and shifted, her knees squeezing his thigh. "Because I am definitely not having professional thoughts about you."

"We got twenty minutes before the tide is over our heads," he murmured, dipping his mouth to brush across her neck. "Mm, salty."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, I was hoping so," he whispered.

"You are so incorrigible." She gasped again as a wave touched their bodies, and he used that moment of vulnerability to slide his hand between them. Kate moaned, shivering below him.

"Is that a yes?" he hummed.

"Oh, hell, it's a yes," she hissed. "Stop asking, more doing."

"I'll remind you of this when you bitch about seaweed in your ass."

* * *

He slept his four hours, woke around five the next morning, and slid out of bed. It was dark; the windows that formed the back wall showed the haunting view of birch trees and early fog, the night more of a faint gray than true black.

He walked softly down the hall and checked on their son, but James was curled in one corner of the crib with his corduroy elephant, fast asleep. The boy looked well out of it, which meant he was on a good sleeping schedule again. He was grateful for that.

But when Castle turned to close the door, Kate was at his back.

"Fuck," he croaked, heart pounding.

"Did I scare you?" she murmured, laughing back at him.

"It's five in the morning, Beckett. What the hell?"

She was grinning as she pulled him down the hall towards the kitchen. "I wanted to get up with you for a change. Only a few days left. Want to enjoy it."

"You can't enjoy it at a more reasonable hour?"

"You can't seem to," she said. "Now come on. I'm making us breakfast, and then we can watch the sun come up."

He followed her into the kitchen, sank back against the counter as she moved to the fridge. She pulled out the carton of eggs and picked out the last four, flashing him a smile over her shoulder. He leaned in and snagged a pan for her, put it on the stovetop.

She always did that, got ahead of herself in the kitchen, didn't properly prepare. He was glad to help.

Kate kissed his cheek, her lips strongly scented with mint, and she cracked open the eggs over the pan. He tugged the compost bucked out from under the sink and held it up to her so she could dump the shells. Her smile was gorgeous, beaming at him.

He watched her cook, the way she added ingredients one at a time, thoughtfully, as if she were making it up on the spot. An omelette, he saw, good idea since it meant they could use up the last of the fresh mushrooms and spinach.

Castle crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, letting her do the work, watching her move. Her hips danced at the oven, her hair falling in soft waves to her shoulder blades, and she kept giving him teasing looks as she finished up.

"Want juice?" he said, lifting up to open the fridge.

She slapped his hand and pushed him back. "I got it. You're supposed to be taking it easy."

"Is that what we're doing here?" But he moved to sit down at the bar, putting his elbows on the counter. "Fulfilling our gender stereotypes?"

She laughed, glancing back at him. "For this one morning, sure, babe. That's what we're doing. The rest of the time? You cook, clean, and take care of the kid, like you usually do."

He grinned, lifting an eyebrow, smoothing his hands out on the granite. "You know it's not like that." She was plating the omelette; she had two forks out for them, one plate. He leaned in. "I don't do everything."

"Yes, you do," she shrugged. Then she curled her nose. "And I'm okay with you treating me like a princess."

"I do not," he injected. "I just - treat you like the woman I love."

Kate bit her bottom lip and set the plate on the counter, dropped the forks to wrap both arms around his neck. Her kiss tasted like toothpaste, the warm stroke of her tongue. He shifted to draw her into him, hooking an arm around her shoulders.

She stepped between his knees, soft and insistent against his mouth, her body filling his embrace. He slipped his hand to the hem of her t-shirt, rucked it up as he tunneled his way to the bare skin of her back.

She framed his face with her hands, nudged into the kiss to push him back. He blinked to clear his vision, focus on her face.

Gorgeous, beautiful woman.

"The way you love me, Rick Castle," she murmured. Her thumb stroked his bottom lip. "There are no words."

He felt his lust shiver down his spine and he grinned. "You do pretty damn good without words. But where's my coffee?"

* * *

Words weren't necessary for this either.

Kate pushed her husband out past the back garden and down the path towards the bay. It was secluded and they had coffee in their hands and the sky was growing lighter with every step.

"Come on," she cajoled, turning back to look at him. "You're slow, babe. Get moving or we'll miss it."

"I'm coming," he chuckled back. He was watching her, and she knew it. She was good; she felt strong. She didn't mind giving him the chance to believe it and trust in it again.

The path narrowed as it switched back through the dunes; the grass gave way to sand and she had to pay attention to her footing. Her travel mug of coffee she kept loose in her fingers, holding on to it by the lid, and the gray shadows of pre-dawn followed her down to the beach.

Castle came up at her back, a free hand at her nape, brushing the hair away from the place between her shoulder blades where he liked to touch her. They came to the last ridge of dunes and she stopped, gripping her toes in the night-cool sand as she looked out over the ocean.

"Sit?" he murmured.

Kate glanced back at him, his face washed out by the gray non-light, and she touched his chest with her free hand. "Yeah. Sure. The sand is a little cool-"

He shrugged out of his t-shirt before she could even finish her sentence, floating it to the ridge of sand at their feet. Kate let out a noise of surprise, but she sank down to his still-warm shirt, drawing her knees up.

He sat at her back, legs at either side of her hips so that she could lean into his chest. Castle sank his coffee mug into the sand and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her arms. He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck and settled his chin on her shoulder.

She could feel his slow breathing, feel the heat of his body at her back. She hooked her arms around her legs and tilted her head back against him, struggling to keep her eyes open.

"You tired now?"

"Mm, I'll go back to bed after this," she promised. The sea stretched for an infinity, ever-moving, ever-changing. The sky lightened by degrees, transforming from the dingy grey of the fading night to the green-tinged twilight.

Castle touched a kiss to her jaw. "Is it still good?" His nose nudged into her neck.

"Is... what still good?" she asked, turning to catch his profile. Was he doubting this? "Babe, what-"

"The island." He sighed, his eyes on the horizon. "This was supposed to be for you. Our private - our sanctuary. Is it ruined?"

"No, honey," she murmured, stroking the side of his face. "Nothing is ruined. It's beautiful here. It's perfect."

 _Then why do you want to leave so badly?_

She heard it, what he didn't ask, but she didn't have an answer that would soothe him. It was time to go. It was just time to go. Real life awaited.

And now she was sad.

Kate turned her head back to the faint light over the ocean, the triumphal entry of dawn. Pink and pale yellow streaked through the sky like fingers reaching, and the water leaped to meet it.

Sunrise, and the beach was awash in light, casting the sand in vivid gold and the water in purple waves. She lifted a hand back and touched the side of his face, the scruff under her fingers, felt his kiss against her palm.

She scratched that two-day stubble and watched the light pearl in the sky. Like the inside of the black shells, everything pink and purple and shining.

Just then the sand dusted up a few feet from them, a spray of golden grains, and then a fox poked his head up. A pup, no bigger than her hand, with large pointed ears and dark eyes and a snout that wrinkled as he nosed up to see.

"Rick," she breathed.

"I see it," he mouthed at her cheek. He was still, barely breathing, and she curled her fingers at his ear to hang on, watching the fox.

It flipped in the sand and went sprawling down the dunes, a flick of its tail as it tried to right itself. Kate held in her laughter and watched the baby fox orient its ears, turn its head, and bounce towards a skittering crab.

The fox mewled and jumped back, shaking its head, and then went running after a wave. The thing got doused, soaked to the bone so that its fur was pointy spikes in a mane around its body. The fox shook his head as if trying to get water out of its big ears, and then jumped back from another incoming wave.

Castle laughed and the fox froze, jerked its head up to look at them.

But it didn't run off. The pup came closer, its paws so huge in comparison to its little body as it padded up the sand dunes. The fox stopped mere feet from them, sat down primly, and began licking its wet fur.

But it kept its eyes on them.

"Hey, little fox," she whispered.

The fox stopped washing, lifting its head, ears orienting. The sunlight beamed across the ocean and caught it red and gold, caught its white-tipped, flicking tail. The fox tilted its head and studied them, then came forward another few steps and opened its mouth to mewl at them.

Tail twitching, the fox slipped closer and mewled again, and Castle laughed softly. "She sounds like you."

"Sounds like - me?" she whispered. "And how do you know it's a girl?"

"Sounds like you when I-"

Kate slapped his shoulder and the fox jumped up, jumping again down the sand dunes, flipping its tail, and then down again to the shoreline. Unconcerned, completely at ease, playing. It raced up the beach and disappeared again.

"Adorable," Kate sighed.

"All because of you," he murmured at her ear. "And completely unafraid. That's good, isn't it? Kate Beckett makes a home for foxes."

She smiled, watching the sun slip free of the horizon to shine above the waves. A home for foxes.

"Because of you as well," she murmured, wrapping her hand around his calf. "You're part of this, Castle. We've built it together." She turned her head to him and caught the last of the sunrise reflected in the blue sky of his eyes. "Don't write yourself out of the story, love."


	10. Chapter 10

**Close Encounters 28**

* * *

She was laying out on the cliffside beach, the tiny strip of sand that gave over quickly to rock, when she saw Castle coming down the worn path for her. Since she was lying on her stomach, she could see the taut curve of his calves and the line of his shorts before he disappeared, going around a bend in the path as he came down. Out of sight.

She closed her eyes and listened to the fierce waves crashing against the cliff, let it subsume her again.

Colin Hunt hadn't reported in. They knew he'd made landfall, and they had a guy following him at a distance, but Hunt hadn't gotten in touch with them one way or another.

It could mean anything. He might be waiting until he resumed contact with his Collective handler, or it could be that he didn't think he ought to reach out unless it was an emergency. But his silence plagued her with doubts.

They shouldn't have brainwashed him. They had run a play on Colin Hunt, a long con, and just because he truly was Castle's blood brother, didn't make it okay. He didn't mean to them what-

"Hey, you look pink."

She opened her eyes and saw Castle settling down on an outcropping of rock, his arms braced on his knees.

"Pink."

"Shoulders, babe. Oh, and your nose."

She closed her eyes. "I put on sunblock." She felt worthless, and it struck her out of the blue, the feeling. She had no idea where that had come from. "It's in the bag."

"I'll get it," he said quietly. She could hear him rifling through her beach bag, the top snapping open on the bottle. Then his cool fingertips brushing her hair aside. "It's grown out."

"Yeah," she sighed.

"You fall asleep down here?"

"Think so." She hummed and melted into the touch of his strong fingers, the deep pressure digging into her muscles and working her skin. "Didn't mean to."

"Sun'll do that," he murmured. He massaged, not just rubbing lotion into her, but massaging. She felt better already, relaxed instead of sad.

"James?"

"Well, yeah, taking a nap," he laughed. "So you're allowed."

"He had lunch okay?"

"He likes leftovers. He's not a picky eater at all," Castle said. He was leaning in close over her and she could smell the workday sweat of him, the sunlight in his clothes and hair, the sunblock on his hands. "Colin doesn't have to report in, Kate. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"And we have someone on him, so we'd know if he was in trouble."

"Yeah, that's true."

Castle removed a hand and she opened her eyes, watched him as he settled down beside her. He propped his head up on an elbow, left his other palm hot against her bare back. The copper-colored bikini was new; he'd had it shipped to Nantucket and it had come over with her father on the boat.

She liked it. And it was obvious he liked it too.

He was rubbing his still-oiled fingers under the strap across her spine, but he was studying her face. She propped her chin on her hands and studied him back.

Richard Castle. Lean jaw, tall forehead, golden-streaked hair. Spy, husband, father. The artist of the story, but the consummate covert agent. The man who had dragged his broken body out of a hospital, repeatedly, to come find her in a Russian cave - and then cajoled and encouraged and finally carried her home. The man who had held their son in his arms first and then proudly presented the newborn to her, sharing his birth, his arrival in their world with such joy.

The man she had laid beside in the darkness and confessed things to - how Hunt was in love with her, how she didn't think she could be a good mother, how addictive it was to take those pills, how terrified she was of his father that night in Tunisia. How she loved him. How she wanted him - so that he would turn and would take her. How right it felt to be laying beside him in the dark despite all those things.

Here they had the brilliant sunlight making them both squint, and the hard-packed sand, and the tumult of waves, but it was still so right, him lying beside her.

Castle slid his hand up her back and cupped her shoulder. "I can't wait to go home."

She smiled, her heart easing. "Yeah? Me too. Me too, I want to go home."

* * *

Castle shifted forward and gathered James into his arms. "Hey, wolf. You having fun?"

Kate released the boy with only a smile, able to move freely again in the bedroom. James had made packing difficult, but she didn't mind. He was cute, even as he threw clothes out of their suitcase. "He's quite the helper."

"I don't think you're doing much helping, are you?" Castle blew a kiss against the boy's neck that made him giggle, and Kate stopped to watch, a little surprised by her husband's carefree ease. She had expected him to be morose as they got closer and closer to leaving.

She folded her shirts again, the ones that James had thrown around the room, and replaced them in the suitcase. "James probably could use a few snacks for the journey," she started, trying to think ahead.

"Good idea. I'll grab some stuff out of the bag of perishables."

"Damn, we didn't get everything eaten?"

He shook his head as James tried to crawl up onto his shoulder, his feet digging into his father's ribs. Castle let him get far enough and then he scooped the kid up and settled him on his shoulders.

James stared down at her from his perch, absolutely stunned silent, gripping Castle's hair wth both hands.

"Hey, there, wolf. Look how high you are."

James squeaked, still a little shocked.

Kate laughed and hooked her fingers around his foot, tugging gently. "Your own fault. You wanted up there."

Castle was hanging on to him carefully, she saw, fingers gripping the boy's thighs high up to keep him stable. But James was clinging just as carefully, not yet sure if he liked this.

"Wolves shouldn't be that high, should they?"

James laid his chin on the top of his father's head, hunching his shoulders. Castle cleared his throat to gain her attention.

"Should I let him get down? He's pretty stiff. Does he look scared?"

"Not scared exactly. Just not quite sure."

Castle slid a hand up their son's back, bracing him, and then swung the boy back down. Into his arms. James let out a kind of hysterical giggle and buried his face into his daddy's chest.

Castle laid a hand on his back, soothing him. "Okay, sorry, sorry. You're fine. You're just fine."

"He's fine," Kate added. She could see the side of their son's face where he was hiding against his father. "A little thrilled, I think. James, lift up for Daddy, let him see you're okay."

James rubbed his face against Castle and then wriggled to get down. Castle let him, the boy sliding down his leg to the floor, but James gripped his father's shorts and bounced on his feet, lifting his arms up to be carried again.

"Oh, see? You started something, Rick."

Castle leaned over and lifted James again, and the boy started crawling up his ribs again, trying to get higher.

"Oh, shit. I really did start something."

Kate laughed and patted James's bottom. "Okay, you guys have fun. I've got to finish packing our suitcase."

Castle was already pushing James up on his shoulders again. "Say bye to Mommy. We'll go play with Sasha and keep everyone out from underfoot."

"Good thinking," she said. Kate leaned in and kissed Castle's cheek even as he moved to leave her. "Rick. Be dressed and ready to go in an hour."

"Got it. And I won't forget snacks either."

"Good man."

* * *

He had snacks. He had diapers and wipes. He had a teething ring. He had a sippy cup. He had all of that in the backpack snug on his shoulders. He had a weapon, a spare clip in the side pocket. Bare essentials had changed with the birth of their son, that was for sure.

Ah, he didn't have his _son_. That's what was missing.

Castle headed back through the living room and down the hall, finally found James alone in his bedroom, driving his corduroy elephant across the wood floor like it was a car.

"James," he called softly. The boy turned his head and held up his elephant. "Yeah, you're right. I nearly forgot El. My fault. Good thing you came to find him."

James gave him a shy smile and worked his way to standing, not even teetering any longer, stable and solid.

"Come here, wolf. It's time to go."

James came running for him, and Castle caught him, scooped his son into his arms. "Hey, are you ready for the boat?"

James made a humming noise that apparently passed for _yes_ , and he tapped elephant against Castle's chest.

"I got him; don't worry," Castle replied, taking the stuffed animal from his son. "But let's check the crib to make sure we're not leaving anything else."

He carried James across the room and leaned in over the crib, even swiped his hand in the corners to see if they were leaving behind any stray teething rings. Lately he'd started going to bed with them, sucking on one like a pacifier.

"Nope, all clean. Okay, now to find Mommy."

"Mama?"

"Yeah, let's find her."

Castle carried his son back down the hallway and stopped at their bedroom, but it was empty. James made a startled noise and Castle chuckled.

"Yeah, she's not here. Where is Mommy?"

"Mama?" James called out. "Mama!"

"I hear someone calling me?" Kate's voice carried through the living room and Castle followed the sound, saw her by the front door. She smiled at James and held her arms out. "Hey, JP, were you looking for me?"

James went willingly and Castle gave him up, adjusting the pack on his shoulders again, pushing elephant inside. Kate kissed James's little cheeks and made him squirm with it, but she gave James back to him after that.

"Let Daddy carry you," she told the boy. "Daddy's nice and strong."

"Daddy," James echoed, laying his head against Castle's chest. They'd decided to start out late morning, close to James's lunch so that they could feed him on the boat and then hopefully get him to sleep.

They were taking their houseboat all the way to New York where the pilot would drop them off and refuel. No ferry rides through Nantucket and getting a car up the coast, not this time. Just a straight shot home to test the extent of their security measures. Since Colin Hunt had been to their island, the 'secret' nature of its location was already somewhat compromised. Heading for home on the boat was faster, easier on their son, but also easier on Kate.

"There you go," Kate murmured, drawing his attention. She was kissing James's cheek, stroking down his dark hair. But she was looking at him.

"You okay?" he asked, confused by her regard.

"I'm good. Just wanted to be sure you were," she admitted. She lifted on her toes, hanging onto his arm for balance, and softly kissed the corner of his mouth. "Are you?"

"I'm at peace," he sighed. He meant he was at peace about their leaving and going back to the world that seemed to want to hurt them, but he realized belatedly that he truly was, simply, at peace.

Kate was not only alive, but the infusion had allowed her to recover her natural strength and grace. His son was healthy and happy and whatever trauma they might have inflicted on him had faded to nothing. John Black father was being held in check, roughly, and Colin Hunt was out there to spy on the Collective.

His family was close to him, his enemies watched. He couldn't help but feel at peace, even though he knew there would be issues later, that Kate wasn't yet one hundred percent, that Hunt wasn't a certainty. Right now, it felt good to be here.

"My dad's already on the boat," Kate told him. "Everything else has been packed. I just came to look for you. If you're ready."

"I'm ready," he promised. He jostled James in his arms and met the boy's eyes. "You ready for the boat, wolf?"

"Boat." Distinctly, clear as day.

Kate laughed, clapping a hand over her mouth as her startled noise brought James's attention.

"Kid has two words, maybe three, and suddenly he has _boat_?" Castle grumbled. "Of course. Mama, Daddy, Sasha, and boat."

"Shhhh," James said happily, looking around for the dog.

"She's on the boat, Jay," Kate said. "Come on. Let's go find her."

So Castle walked out of their island home following his wife, shut the door after them without looking back.

* * *

While they waited for the boat to be checked, this time, Castle called the Director first.

Marjorie answered at the desk and tutted over him and his wife for a few minutes, a sympathetic ear. Since she had been the one to push past the Director's reluctance to take on Beckett's case, he took the time to give her the latest family news. Even though he knew it would be gossip fodder.

"And how's our baby?" Marjorie twittered. "Is he talking any?"

"Some. He's got about four or five words," Castle gave over. "Mostly he grunts."

"Oh, how adorable. I just want to pinch his little cheeks. When you guys get back, bring him in."

"To... the DC Office?" he said, faintly horrified at the thought.

"Oh, it's secure. You know it is. Would I be working here if it wasn't?"

He was pretty sure she'd be working there come hell or high water. "Marjorie-"

"Oh, I know. But it's not like he's going to be spilling state secrets. Unless 'grunt' is a secret language."

"No, ma'am," he chuckled. "That's true. But Kate and I haven't really-"

"Everyone knows already. You'd think we were the NSA, the loose lips around here."

Oh, wow, that was a burn. Nice one, Marjorie.

"Anyway, Richard, you bring the baby so I can hold him and get my fingers on those chubby cheeks. You and Beckett will have a meeting anyway."

"We will?"

"Of course. You've been on leave for months now. He'll want to be briefed, and there's a thing brewing. Anyway, he can't speak right now. If you were hoping to talk to him."

Castle was thrown off his game. The only thing he found himself able to say was, "Uh, his cheeks aren't that chubby."

"Fiddlesticks. I was so hoping. Regardless, you're bringing him in. Tuesday. Two weeks from now."

"Tuesday," he said, blinking stupidly out over the water. "But..."

"I'm assuming this was a courtesy call to let us know you were making your way home."

"Yes, ma'am," he sighed.

"Then two weeks Tuesday is plenty of time. From what I hear."

"How much did you hear?" he growled.

"Not enough," she tsked.

"At least there's that." Castle rubbed a hand down his face, wondering why they'd never given Marjorie a command post somewhere. Tied to the Director. They were married after all. Only a few years ago, but they'd both been confirmed bachelors for so long. Could a woman be a bachelor? If not, Marjorie was anyway. "Tuesday. Yes, ma'am. We'll be there. With - with the baby."

He hung up and glanced to his wife. She had her hands on her hips, a mean look on her face.

" _With_ the baby?"

Oh, great.


	11. Chapter 11

**Close Encounters 28**

* * *

The boat was the same one they'd taken on the journey over to their island, but the difference between then and now was remarkable.

Not just for Kate Beckett. But she hoped for her husband as well.

James, of course, was happy to be back on the water, inside the boat with its bolted down furniture that allowed him to tumble headlong from one item to the next across the floor. He chuckled as he went, gripping a chair before heading for the bed, rebounding with the pitch of the deck back to the chair.

They were experiencing some rough weather, but it was well in hand. Castle wasn't even in the pilothouse; he was back here trying to entice their little wolf to eat his lunch.

"James. Get back over here, you little maniac. What are you doing?"

Kate glanced up from the laptop to see James giggling on the floor, clutching his corduroy elephant in one hand and apparently having lost his balance. "I think he's overtired. James, eat your lunch so you can take a nap."

Giggling stopped abruptly. James shot her a look, not happy, and she was beginning to realize that this had been a bad idea. It was too new, too exciting to fall asleep now, and yet it was his nap time and he was so tired. They might be in for a fight.

"How about this?" Castle said, standing up from the table and closing the lid on the tupperware container. "James, we'll skip lunch. Go straight to bed. And then we'll wake you for the good part, okay?"

"I don't think he's old enough for bargaining," Kate said wryly. But she closed the laptop and shifted it into the soft case, putting it between the bolted down shelves. The boat pitched in a sudden wave and James, who had just gotten to his feet to run from his daddy, was toppled back to the floor.

He was giggling again, a little hysterically, and Kate stood up and made her way to him, intercepting Castle.

"You're working," he murmured.

"I got him. We'll switch off," she said quietly, bending down. James lifted his head from his fit of laughter, his eyes overbright and tired. "Hey, my little wolf. I know you so love the boat, don't you? Yeah. Come here. That's right."

James crawled into her lap and slumped against her, limp and heavy. She cupped the back of his head and kissed the soft hair, brushing her fingers through the spiky rise of his fauxhawk.

James's mouth fell open. She gathered the corduroy elephant and stood up, carrying James to the bed with her. She sat against the sloped side of the boat, letting its engines thrum down through her bones and vibrate into James as well. The baby tried to pick his head up, tried to fight it, but the lull of the rocking boat and the engines and her own heart under his ear was too much.

"Mommy is magic," Castle whispered, leaning over them a moment. She lifted her head to smile at him and he kissed her softly.

"He'll probably wake in an hour, hungry," she said back. "But we'll feed him then. Early bedtime tonight."

"Sounds like perfect plan," he smiled.

"Take the laptop," she nodded. "Your turn."

Castle didn't protest; they had a lot to catch up on before they made landfall.

* * *

James was still asleep when Castle managed to get through the latest urgent messages in his email. He switched with Kate, carefully peeling the sweat-sleep heavy boy off his mother, letting him squish down into his father instead. Kate took the laptop from him before it could fall, another pitch of the deck under his feet making him shift.

James never woke.

"Hey," Kate said softly. "Here's El."

Castle took the stuffed animal and tucked it into the crook of his elbow, kept it close as he turned around. "I'm going to walk on deck with him."

"If he can sleep the full nap time, let him. Don't wake him up, Rick."

"I won't. I'll let him sleep," he said, already heading for the door. "You have a conference call in twenty minutes."

"I do?" she blurted out.

"It was on the calendar," he said, stopping to turn and look at her.

"Shit," she groaned, glancing at her watch. "It's already two? Shit. I was supposed to do the spreadsheet for Ryan first. Okay, shoo, Castle. I have to work."

He grinned into the top of James's head, turned around to slide open the cabin door. He met Jim in the narrow hall, and the man gave way to let Castle pass.

"How's the boy doing with the weather?"

"Look at him," Castle murmured, turning so Jim could see James over his shoulder. "Out cold. Doesn't even faze him."

Jim chuckled, touching the top of James's head as they went by. Jim went the opposite direction, heading for the galley, while Castle moved to the sliding door that connected the cabins to the pilothouse. When he got inside, the churning of engines and the thud of the boat moving through the water was monstrously loud, compared to the quiet of their cabin.

James snuffled in his sleep, an arm twitched, but he was still out. Castle found their pilot, Marco, at the controls and looking unconcerned. The weather was rough but Marco was good, and the boat was good too, and Castle wasn't worried. Things could be done before there was ever a problem.

"Oh, look at him," Marco said, a wide and hungry grin on his face. He pinched his fingers together and took James's sleeve in his grip, tugging as he bent forward over the boy. "A natural sailor, sleeping right through. Eh, James? I hear they call you wolf, but look at your sea legs."

"I think the sea legs are mine," Castle remarked, amused by Marco's sudden transformation into a kind of papi. "But he has a good stomach for it. How's the dog?"

"Cowering under the table this time. No fishing to distract her."

"Oh, no, really? Where?" Castle ducked his head but he didn't see Sasha in the pilothouse's narrow space.

"Back in the galley. Jim has been taking care of her."

"I'll go take a look," he murmured. "Good job, Marco, with the boat. It could be a beautiful day for all we know."

Marco saluted him with a wink, a last shake of James's hand, and Castle headed back through to the galley. He passed Jim's cabin and then their own, and lastly came to the common kitchen. Jim was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, with Sasha curled in his lap like she'd done when she was a puppy. Jim couldn't be comfortable like that.

Castle stepped inside. "Oh, Sasha, poor puppy."

Jim glanced up, so did the dog, whining at him. "She's not loving it. But I think it's because she spent so long wild out there."

"We let her come and go," Castle winced. "She did get wild. That's our fault. Too much wolf." He sank carefully to his knees and sat down, shifting James to cradle him in one arm. "Sasha, puppy. Hey. You want to come here? Come curl up with James."

Jim chuckled, lifting his hand from her ruff to let her go. "Kinda full there, both wolves together."

Castle grinned but allowed Sasha to gingerly step over Jim and slink into his lap instead. He had to hold James up for a moment to let the dog get situated, and then he lowered James to her back, his free hand caressing the poor dog's ears and neck. Sasha was whining again.

"It is kind of full. I'd take you into our cabin, but Kate's on a conference call."

"Well, you've got a nice wolf pile going there. I'm actually going to see if I can't stand up again and take a nap myself. James has the right idea. It will be a long trip."

"Thanks, Jim," he told her father. Jim stood up - there was some effort to it - and then patted Castle's shoulder as he left.

Sasha huddled into him, not liking the roll of the deck, while James slept on in the crook of his arm. After a minute, his back began to stiffen up, so Castle shifted dog and boy towards the wall, let himself lean against it with a minimum amount of fuss.

Sasha was a tight fight in his lap once more but James curled up with the wolf, an arm around her like a chokehold, his mouth open at the dog's collar. Since they'd had to shave Sasha down after so long on the island, James wasn't even getting any fur in his mouth.

Sasha stopped whining. She licked James's neck and then her eyes closed.

They were both content.

* * *

Beckett lifted her hands over her head and stretched, her back popping as she arched, up on her toes for the full effect. She tilted her head side to side, broke out into a yawn, and then came back down flat-footed. She glanced out the porthole and saw only the deck outside, the metal railing, and past that the wide ocean in all its murky-brown endlessness.

Time for a break.

She was starving; she could use a snack. Even some lunch. She'd been too busy trying to get James to eat and then sleep that she hadn't eaten anything herself. The galley was stocked, and so she slipped out of their berth, sliding the door shut behind her, and headed for the boat's kitchen.

When she opened the galley door, she was startled to find her husband and son and dog curled up in a pile on the floor.

"Um. Rick. You okay?"

His eyes popped open, but then so did James's and Sasha's too.

"Am I okay?" Castle repeated, looking at her stupidly. "Are you okay?"

She came forward and sank down onto her knees beside him, reached out a hand to stroke the dog's fur. Sasha was curled in his lap like she used to do when she was a puppy. "Is she scared?" she whispered.

"Yeah, she doesn't like the pitch of the boat."

"Come here, puppy," Kate murmured, reaching in to gather up her dog. Of course, it proved incredibly awkward for both of them, the wolf was so big now, and Kate merely got a pitiful look from Sasha and a laugh from Castle.

"Mama."

"Yeah, you've got Daddy. You're fine," she told her son, kissing his cheek as he blearily rubbed his face against his father's shirt. "Everybody come with me. We'll go back to our room. Sasha, come on."

Castle nudged on the dog and she resignedly got up, jumping gracefully out of his lap and to the floor, but she whined and circled their feet as they stood. Castle stayed still, James in his arms, and Kate gave up and squatted down, gathered the dog into her arms.

"Whoa, you're heavy," she muttered. Still, she rose to her feet, putting her legs into it as she stood, and she started moving for the door.

Castle got ahead of her to ease the way, opening the galley door and shutting it behind them, then slipping by her in the narrow passage to get to their own door. James was squishy on his father's shoulder, merely watching with sleepy eyes, and Kate got the dog inside the room and on the bed.

She crawled up with Sasha and curled on her side, wrapping her arm around the puppy, getting close. "Come on, Rick. Sit with her. I think he'll fall back to sleep too."

"Probably," Castle said softly. He was already sinking down to the mattress, leaning his back against the wall at the head of the bed.

Kate pushed her arm across the dog and laid her hand on Castle's thigh, wriggling a little closer. Sasha nudged her wet nose against Kate's, licked her.

She laughed. "Okay, thank you. Yes. Kisses are very sweet. You're okay, you're just fine, puppy."

The whining had stopped.

She glanced up to check on her son and saw his eyes were closed. Good.

Castle eased a little further down in bed and lifted an arm free of James to lay his palm over the back of her head. Felt good, heavy and warm, and she closed her eyes too.

She could use some sleep too, no doubt. And then late - even later - lunch.

* * *

"Your stomach is growling and it's keeping me up," Castle told her. She cracked an eye open - no one was sleeping through the engine's chugging and the pitch and roll of the deck.

"I'm starving," his wife admitted.

"Let me make you something."

"No, I can-"

"You're kind of a human pillow at the moment," he reminded her, kissing her temple. "I can squeeze out, but you've got wolf and wolf."

She grinned, fingers trailing across James's back, other arm under Sasha's head and between the dog's front paws, cradling her more than the baby.

Castle slid out from under James, carefully laying the boy on the mattress as he left. Kate watched him with her eyes full, that gaze she sometimes had where he could practically feel what she felt, where her contentment and peace spilled out and permeated the whole room, his chest, his heart, and nothing needed to be done about it.

Nothing more than this. The existence of their family in this room, whatever came, was enough for the world, for the rest of time, for whatever happened in their future together.

"Kate," he said. And the words of love that might have come after didn't come. She only smiled at him, easy and brilliant, and he smiled back so hard that his face hurt.

Their son sleeping hard against her side, the dog watchful and aware at her shoulder but soothed, and Kate reclining in the narrow bunk, hair in glorious mane around her face, health pinking her skin.

He nodded and turned around, walked out of the cabin, sliding the door closed behind him.

That was all. It was all. Things would happen, events would unfold, their lives would expand or contract, change, blossom, be battered, receive hits, find new directions. This was all, this was perfect.

Castle headed back for the galley to make her a quick sandwich, and himself as well, and he didn't worry about where the boat was taking them, or how rough the water, because they were home. They were already home, together.

* * *

 **End Close Encounters 28**

Spy Castle will take a summer hiatus and return in the fall with **Close Encounters 29: Octopussy**


End file.
